Mysterious Ways
by Filthy Bunny
Summary: FINISHED! After Prague, Lara and Kurtis reunite to plan their next step. But there are difficult and dangerous obstacles, not least their feelings for each other. Please read and review. I DID IT! FINAL CHAPTER NOW POSTED! :D
1. Getting the Message

:o Here it is, my debut fanfic! It's only short, but there's plenty more to follow, I wanted to get an idea of whether people are interested before I post any more. Hope you like!

Chapter 1: Getting the Message

"Lara? It's Kurtis."

My breath stopped short in my chest. I hadn't heard that voice for nearly a month, but it felt like years. 

The message continued. "I got your message about the research you've been doing, that sounds great. I'm sorry I didn't get back to you sooner, but I was stuck in hospital for weeks, thought I was gonna go crazy. Anyway, I'm out now, got back home yesterday, and yeah, can't wait to hear about what you've been finding out. I got your other message, about the banquet, sounds like a plan, if I can make it to England in time I'll be there. Got some stuff to sort out first, but then… I really wanna get moving with this." A pause. "So, okay, hope to see you soon." Another pause, longer this time, and I thought the message was over. A month since I had saved his hide and that was it – talk about short and sweet. But then the voice went on, sounding a little less confident: "Oh, yeah, and I hope everything's okay with you. Bye."

I smiled. I knew, and no doubt he did too, that it wasn't much in the way of thanks, but I felt touched nevertheless. I sat down at my desk, looking at the answer phone. The wave of relief I felt had taken me by surprise. I hadn't realised just how desperate I had been to hear from him – it was as if I'd been holding my breath for a month. I hadn't even known for sure if he was alive, although when I went to see him at the hospital in Prague the doctors said they were confident about his recovery. He'd been unconscious by the time I got him to hospital after we made it out of the Strahov, and needed surgery, so I'd had to wait through an agonising night before I could return and see how he was. The next day he was awake, but on a lot of medication and not able to talk much, so I had tentatively filled him in on what had happened with Eckhardt and Karel. He was clearly disturbed by the news that the story wasn't over with Eckhardt's demise. A lot of people's deaths still needed to be avenged, among them Kurtis' father. And, of course, my dear friend Werner. I'd had to leave Kurtis with bad news on top of his bad injuries, and catch my plane. We had exchanged contact details, and I swore to get to work researching our next move as soon as I arrived home. 

But it had seemed so long without any word, and my calls had only reached an answer machine. I feared that maybe he hadn't pulled through. And if he had, maybe he didn't want to contact me, preferring to do things his own way. I resigned myself to the thought that I would never have chance to fight alongside him again, or to see what secrets were hidden in the depths of those blue eyes. 

Now it was a different story. He was coming to England, with any luck in time for the Royal Archaeological Society's annual banquet. I had left him the message about that a week ago, adding as an afterthought that he was welcome to join me as my guest if he wanted, as there would be all manner of specialists there whose brains we could pick. I smiled again, wondering how soon I'd be able to sneak a look into those eyes again, and played the message a couple more times.

* * *


	2. Communication

Chapter 2: Communication

It was late on Thursday evening, with the banquet looming the next day, that he finally called. I was browsing through some papers in my study, thinking about calling it a night, but I was wide awake again with the noise of the telephone. I hurried to answer it, then had to struggle to regain my composure. It might not even be him calling, I told myself. But luckily it was.

"Hello?"

"Lara?" I grinned despite myself.

"Kurtis. It's good to hear your voice." That was an understatement. I could hear a lot of muffled noise from his end of the line, and thought with a thrill that he was calling to say he was at Heathrow.

"You too, how are you? I hope it's not too late to call, I forget what the time difference is." Damn. He obviously hadn't made it as far as England, then.

"Not at all, it's still early," I lied. "And I'm fine, thankyou. Where are you?" 

He sighed. "Well, that's the problem. I'm still in New York, I should have been on the plane by now but there's all kinds of delays here. They still haven't announced when it'll finally be leaving, but I thought I should let you know. Hopefully I should be there by tomorrow afternoon, but God, who knows?"

"Hmm. Well, the banquet starts at eight, so that shouldn't be a problem. But you'll be exhausted by then. Are you sure you'll be able to make it?"

"Don't worry, I'll be fine, I'll sleep on the plane. I doubt I'll be able to do anything else by then." He already sounded tired. "Anyway, I don't want to miss the chance to catch up on all the gossip from the archaeological world." Despite the weariness, there was humour in his voice too.

"Oh, absolutely," I replied. "But seriously, there will be some very useful people there. And food," I added tantalisingly.

"Yeah, I wanted to ask you about that. 'Banquet' sounds very, I don't know, whole-pig-roasted-over-a-spit." 

I laughed. "Well, they've never done that before, but who knows? There'll be a sit-down meal, a few speeches, and then everyone just mingles. They usually have some kind of a band playing."

"I'm guessing you don't mean the sort that uses electric instruments."

"No. Sorry."

"Hey, that's fine with me." He paused. "There won't be dancing, will there?" He sounded truly terrified at the prospect. I laughed again.

"Well, that all depends on how much you have to drink."

"That's very reassuring. Anyway, I'd better go, I need some coffee if I'm going to survive til the plane leaves."

"Okay. Well, I hope to see you soon, then."

"You too. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Yes. And thanks for calling."

"No problem."

* * *

Friday wore on with no word from Kurtis. I called the airport to try and find out if his plane had arrived yet, but I didn't get very far because I didn't know the flight number. I dialed the mobile phone number Kurtis had given me, but I just got a mechanical sounding voice telling me the phone was switched off. That probably meant he was still in the air. As the afternoon passed, I realised I would have to start getting ready. I still had a fairly long drive to London ahead of me.

I'm not often seen in a dress, but I do own a few for occasions such as this. I tried each of them on in an uncharacteristically indecisive episode, trying to convince myself that I wasn't trying to look good for anyone, and that he probably wouldn't make it to the banquet anyway. In the end I settled for a black strapless number with a long skirt and a bodice intricately embroidered with black silk and beads. I took an annoyingly long time putting my hair up, making sure it looked right, and leaving a couple of tendrils loose around my face. I don't go in for jewelry much, but my neck felt awfully bare so I put on a simple necklace. When I was satisfied with my reflection, I pulled a black pashmina around my shoulders and went down to the car. 

I was well on the way to London when my mobile phone started ringing. I fished it out of my bag and answered it. 

"Hey, I'm finally here," said Kurtis from the other end of the line. He sounded tired but relieved. I asked him whereabouts he was.

"I've just checked into a hotel. I still need to get cleaned up and change, so I'm gonna be running a little late. Sorry." I smiled. Late was a lot better than not at all.

"That's fine, I can leave your name with the doorman if you're not there when I arrive. But wait, you didn't need to check into a hotel. You're quite welcome to stay with me. Plus all my research is there."

He paused. "Are you sure? I mean, do you have the space?"

I grinned. "If there's one thing I've definitely got, it's space."

* * *

:o Sorry it's all phone conversations so far, and not much plot yet, hope it's not too much of a slow start. I promise they'll be reunited next chapter! Let me know what you think.


	3. Networking

Ooh! Thankyou for the lovely reviews people, I'm quite emotional *sniff* 

I suppose it's safe to carry on then!

Anyway, here is chapter 3, it took longer than the other two because (a) it's longer and (b) I had to do ACTUAL research for this one! I'm bringing in Cappadocia because of what Adrian Heath-Smith has said about the next game. The underground cities actually do exist (how cool is that?) and sounded like the kind of place the next game will be set, plus they have lovely names :) 

Enjoy :x

*UPDATE* I have made a few tweaks to this chapter after some useful tips from Paenitentia and Virus Inside. Thanks chaps.

Chapter 3: Networking

The doorman who was welcoming invitees informed me that my guest hadn't yet arrived. I waited for Kurtis in the foyer of the grand old university building, but after a few minutes the chill coming in through the open doors started to bother me, not to mention the lingering looks from most of the men who passed me. I decided to make my way to the main hall, and left Kurtis' name, and a cursory description – tall, dark, and American – with the doorman on my way. I didn't want him getting lost when he did arrive.

People were milling around, greeting each other and drinking sparkling wine. I accepted a glass from the waiter, and started to scout around the room for familiar faces. I didn't have many close friends in this circle, but a number of acquaintances and even ex-teachers. I preferred companions who shared my sense of adventure to academics or theoreticians. Werner had been one exception who fell into both categories, and I felt a twinge of sadness to think of him. He had been a guest speaker at this banquet in years past. I started to mingle, finding it easy to strike up conversations as many of the guests seemed to have heard of me or my past exploits. 

I was starting to build up a mental list of potential informers to track down after dinner, when I saw Kurtis. He was standing close to the doorway on the opposite side of the room, with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a fresh glass of wine. He was surveying the room warily over the top of it. My heart jumped happily in my chest at the sight of him, and a smile pulled at my lips. He hadn't spotted me yet, and I took full advantage of that to look him over before I approached. He looked tired, and untidy despite the black suit and shirt he was wearing. His clothes were a little crumpled, he was missing a tie, and his shirt was untucked and unbuttoned at the collar. His dark hair was hanging in his face as it had the last time I'd seen him, and he hadn't shaved. I sighed. He looked fantastic.

I could have stood there watching him for hours, but he looked so uncomfortable on his own that I didn't have the heart. He saw me when I was halfway across the room from him, and his expression transformed. He looked me over as closely as I had him moments before, making me feel terribly self-conscious, and seemed to like what he saw. 

"Holy Mary Mother of God," he said slowly, when I was standing in front of him. "You look amazing."

I blushed, suddenly very warm all over, and thanked him. "You're looking good too, Kurtis."

He looked unconvinced. "I look like I just got off a plane."

I linked arms with him. "Let's go and sit down. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

We were able to talk over the three course meal, but not in much detail because of the proximity of the other diners. I could tell he was itching to find out where my research had taken me, but I was wary of discussing the Nephilim with so many inquisitive ears nearby. Instead, Kurtis told me about his recovery in the hospital in Prague, which had been slow and frustrating for him. I sympathised, knowing from experience how it felt to be put out of action because of injuries. "It must have been awful." He nodded. "Plus, I couldn't eat for three weeks. I was on a drip. I can't tell you how shitty it is to be stuck in a bed, dreaming day and night about steak." He certainly seemed to be enjoying the meal. "And I couldn't even smoke," he added, as if wondering what was worse.

"You seem to be back to your usual self, though," I told him. 

He shook his head. "I have to get back in training," he replied. "I'm completely out of shape after all that lying around." I opened my mouth to protest at this statement, but on second thoughts closed it again. I didn't want to give him a big head. I think he noticed anyway, though, because he raised an eyebrow and gave me a quizzical little smile. Being in his company again was wonderful, even if the setting was rather different to our previous encounters, and a lot more crowded. 

When dinner was over and our plates had been carried away by the bustling waiters, the room slowly hushed as figures moved about on the stage at the end of the room. It was time for the speeches. Hopefully this would be useful. The guest speaker, Dr. Nikolajev, was a respected Scandinavian archaeologist based in London who had recently returned from excavations in Cappadocia, Turkey. He had been investigating the underground cities of Derinkuyu and Kaymakli in the region, and had caused a bit of a stir in the academic community with his theories about the secrets they may contain. Some of my own leads had pointed towards Cappadocia as a possible link to the ancient Nephilim race, so I was eager to hear what Nikolajev had to say. I passed on this information to Kurtis in a low voice as we waited for the speeches to begin. 

Everyone applauded politely as a short middle-aged man with fair hair approached the lectern. I leaned closer to Kurtis. "That's Jonathan Barclay," I told him. "He's one of the vice presidents of the RAS." 

"You know him?"

"Not really. I went to a few of his lectures at college, but his speciality is medieval England. Not really my cup of tea."

Barclay took some time delivering a rather tedious list of thanks and events from the last year, during which my attention wandered. I found myself noticing with some annoyance that the red-haired waitress who was refilling our wine glasses kept eyeing Kurtis up. He seemed oblivious, however, until she made a great show of spilling wine all over the sleeve of his jacket. She apologised profusely, standing too close and fussing over him while she mopped up the mess. Kurtis was thoroughly charming in return, despite the fact that she'd obviously done it on purpose. Seeing my scowl, she flashed me a patronising smile, which I ignored and carried on pretending to show great interest in Barclay's ramblings. After a while he finished his announcements and got on with introducing the main speaker, who was sitting at the edge of the stage out of my line of sight. Kurtis took off his soggy jacket and put it on the back of his chair, and turned his attention to the stage.

Nikolajev stood and graciously waited for our applause to die down before beginning. He was tall, beanpole thin, and his hair was completely white even though he only seemed to be in his early forties. He began speaking, his voice clear and articulate with only a slight accent. The main theme of his speech was the relationship between religion and archaeology, and although not based solely on Turkey, he did mention the underground cities. Most interesting of all, though, was when he talked about early Christian beliefs and the different levels of beings in heaven and earth. At the brief mention of the Nephilim race, Kurtis and I exchanged a surprised look, and although Nikolajev didn't go into any further detail we realised we would have to chase him up afterwards. I gave hearty applause when he finished, and then didn't waste time. 

"I'm going to talk to Nikolajev," I told Kurtis. "What about you?" 

He shrugged. "Probably best if we don't crowd him. I think that's his assistant," he said, pointing to the man Nikolajev was conferring with at the edge of the stage. "I could talk to him, find out more about the dig in Turkey." 

"Good idea," I replied, nodding, and we split up. We approached the two men from different sides as they descended the steps from the stage, and I made sure I got to the archaeologist before anyone else could. 

"Doctor Nikolajev," I said. "What a wonderful speech. Lara Croft," I added, holding out a hand. Instead of shaking it, he laid a kiss on the back and gave me a charismatic smile. I noticed up close that his hair wasn't white, but a strikingly pale blond. 

"I'm delighted that you enjoyed it. I assume you are the same Miss Croft whose many Egyptian adventures I have read about?"

I smiled. "I expect so. But I'm far more interested to hear about _your_ adventures in Cappadocia. I've always been fascinated by the subterranean cities. I'd love to hear more about them." 

He was happy to discuss his pet subject with me, saying he believed that they had so far only uncovered about a tenth of the chambers in Derinkuyu. He thought they extended much deeper into the ground beneath the living quarters, churches and halls that were closest to the surface. He suspected that many levels further down the tunnels connected with the many other underground settlements in the area, and that at the lowest point there was some kind of vast chamber too deep for humans to live in, the purpose of which was vexing him. Although they had been inhabited by Christian missionaries in past centuries, the consensus was that the cities had been excavated many centuries before the birth of Christ by the Hittites. He leaned closer, however, and told me in a conspiratorial tone that he thought they may date back even earlier. 

He seemed quite charmed by me, so I took advantage and probed further. "You mentioned a race of angel and human half-breeds. The Nephilim?" I was trying to sound more ignorant than I was about the subject, for the sake of caution. "Do those beliefs have any roots in Cappadocia?" 

He looked impressed. "Actually I believe they do. There have already been rumours of findings elsewhere in Turkey, and there are even people in Anatolia who believe that a Nephilim corpse is buried somewhere in the region. There is some superstition about it." I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. I was thinking back to my final battle in the Strahov, wishing that it were true that the Sleeper was nothing more than a myth. Clearly Nikolajev didn't know that the 'corpse' had in fact been found and excavated. He continued: "We have found some interesting artifacts, paintings and such, that include references to the Nephilim. Some in the deeper chambers of Derinkuyu, in fact." My eyes widened in curiosity.

As Nikolajev spoke, I became aware of someone standing beside me, and looked up to see Kurtis. The assistant he had been talking to was nowhere to be seen. He had an oddly suspicious look on his face as he listened to the other man talk. Nikolajeva noticed, too, and his voice trailed off. 

"Doctor Nikolajev, meet my associate, Kurtis Trent. Kurtis, I've been learning all about the underground cities. It's fascinating."

Kurtis looked at me sideways and said, "I'll bet."

Nikolajev held out his hand and Kurtis shook it. "A pleasure to meet you. And please," he continued, looking back at me, "Call me Tobias."

I tried to resume the conversation, but Kurtis' presence was bothering me. What was he doing, just standing there? He was cramping my style, that was for sure, and Nikolajev seemed uncomfortable. Spotting someone behind me, he took my hand again and shook it. 

"It was delightful to meet you, Miss Croft. If you want to know any more about the cities please come and visit me at the university. I'm returning to Cappadocia shortly, but I'll be in London for the next week."

"Maybe I will," I replied. "Thankyou, Tobias."

"Please excuse me." He looked at Kurtis, and nodded to him. "Mr. Trent." He walked away, and began talking to his assistant who had just reappeared. They wandered off together. I looked at Kurtis. "What was all that about?"

"What was all what about?"

"The attitude with Nikolajev."

"Don't know what you mean. So, what did you find out?" 

"Not as much as I could have done," I said pointedly, but recounted the details anyway. "It seems to confirm what I'd hoped, anyway. That some of our answers may lie in Cappadocia."

* * * 

Coming up next chapter… Kurtis rubs Lara up the wrong way. Keep reviewing, it's great to get the feedback, more posted soon!


	4. Friction

New chapter! Had fun writing this one :) 

Chapter 4: Friction

We spent the rest of the evening wandering around the gathering, talking to different guests in the hope of picking up some more useful tips. At least, _I_ talked to people. I didn't know what Kurtis was doing. He kept wandering off without saying anything, then reappearing at my side just as suddenly, usually while I was deep in conversation with someone. It was frustrating, and after a while I thought we may as well leave. We probably had enough information to go on. 

We made our way down to the foyer. "Do we need to call by the hotel to pick up your things?"

"No need. I left my stuff in the cloakroom." He disappeared to collect it while I fished my car keys out of my bags. 

"Travelling light, aren't you?" I remarked as Kurtis returned. All he had was a single black holdall, and it didn't look very full. "I've got everything I need," he replied. 

I led him to my car. He gave it a look not unlike the one he had given me earlier.

"Now _that_ is a thing of beauty, " he said. "Aston Martin?"

"Yes. DB4 Vantage, 1962." I watched while he walked around the car, stroking a hand across the dark green paintwork of the bonnet. Normally I would want to break someone's hand for touching my car, but decided he was being respectful enough that I could let him off. We got in, and Kurtis threw his bag into the back seat. 

It took a while to get clear of London, but once we did I showed Kurtis what the car could do. I gathered that if anyone was likely to share my love of speed, it would be him. I was right.

"God, that's something else I missed while I was laid up in hospital. My bike. Haven't been able to take her for a decent spin since I got out, either."

"Well, if you're good, I might let you ride one of mine." 

"You have motorbikes?"

I grinned. "One or two."

"Wow. And you'd actually let me ride one? You must be very trusting."

"I trust you," I replied. "You looked like you knew how to handle a bike when I saw you in Paris." I glanced sideways at him. He was looking at me and smiling appreciatively. I wasn't sure if it was because I'd told him I trusted him, or because I'd admitted that I remembered watching him in Paris. "Anyway, I said only if you're good."

"How good do I have to be?" he teased.

"Very."

It was good to be alone with him, and I sensed his mood lightening. He had seemed preoccupied and uncomfortable at the banquet, and hadn't been terribly helpful to me, particularly when he had scared Nikolajev off. I guessed that it was because he wasn't good with crowds, especially crowds of upper class English archaeologists, and I could forgive him for that. 

As we drove, we caught up on the things we hadn't been able to talk about earlier. I filled him in on my research findings, in particular the references I had found to an underground 'ark' that had been the last stronghold of the dying Nephilim. This all seemed to tie in with what Nikolajev had told me about the underground cities in Cappadocia, and I was excited by the strength of the new lead. Kurtis was able to fill in some of my gaps with his knowledge of the Cabal, whose aim was to bring the Nephilim back from extinction. 

This was something I had been curious about since our second encounter in the Strahov – Kurtis' past. He had told me then that he and his father were initiates of the Lux Veritatis, an ancient order who battled the Cabal. The Periapt shards that I had used to kill Eckhardt had been passed down through the Lux Veritatis for that purpose. It was all very intriguing, and I asked him to tell me more. He explained that he was the last surviving member of the order, and that like his father and the other initiates he had enhanced mental powers; specifically, he could move objects telekinetically. I nodded, remembering how he had thrown doors from their hinges without touching them during our escape from the Louvre. 

"Is that how you control that weapon, too?" I asked. 

"The Chirugai? Yes, although I think there's a little more to it than that. It's as though it's connected to me somehow, like an extension of my body. The Chirugai came via the Lux Veritatis too. You have to be an initiate to control it."

"Ah," I said in realisation. "That's why it led me to you." 

"What?" 

"I never had chance to tell you. When I found you, in the Strahov, it was because I picked it up - the Chirugai – and it moved in my hand, like it was pulling me towards where you were. That's how I knew that you were still alive." It was an emotional memory, but I tried to hide it.

"Well I'm glad you did," he replied gently. "I'm surprised, though. Normally no one else can pick up the Chirugai without losing fingers. It must like you." I smiled. 

He grew quieter as we drove, and I guessed he must be exhausted. We were nearly home. I suddenly realised that Winston was away this weekend on his monthly visit to his sister and her husband in Kent, and started to feel – of all things - nervous. Kurtis and I would be completely alone in the house.

"So," I said, to distract myself. "Do you have any other super powers that I should know about?" When I glanced over he seemed to be thinking, and was trying to hide a smile. I wondered if he was telepathic, too, and prayed that he wasn't. I definitely didn't want him reading the thoughts I was having at that moment. Then again, the effect he had on me was so strong that he probably didn't need to read my mind.

"No," he answered, after a moment. "Do you?"

I laughed. "I wish I did." I'm so curious about you, I wish I could read _your_ mind, I thought. 

* * *

When we arrived at the house it was past midnight. As we passed through the gates, Kurtis stared ahead in disbelief. 

"You live _here_?" 

I parked in the large adjoining garage and led him through the door into the house. 

"Welcome to Croft Manor," I said, gesturing around the main hallway. "I would give you the grand tour, but I imagine you could do with getting some sleep." He put his bag down, still looking around in amazement. 

"You live here on your own?"

"Not completely alone. There's my butler, Winston, but he's away this weekend. And I have two cats, Salome and Tosca, but they probably won't show their faces either. They're not too keen on strangers." 

"Oh, I forgot to ask you. Did you find anything out from Nikolajev's assistant?"

Kurtis shook his head. "No, he seemed bothered by something. Distracted. He made his apologies and rushed off before I could ask him much."

"Hmm. You seem to have that effect on people," I said drily, thinking aloud. As soon as I'd said it I knew it sounded bad, but hoped he hadn't noticed.

No such luck. He moved around in front of me. "What do you mean by that?" 

I forced a smile. "Nothing. Nothing at all," I replied, but there was something in my tone that he didn't believe. I turned away to hang my pashmina over the banister and avoid looking him in the eye. In truth, I was still a bit disgruntled that he had cut short my discussion with Dr. Nikolajev.

"No, wait a minute." He moved in front of me again. "What's this about?"

"Alright." I breathed in and straightened to look into his face. "At the banquet, when I was talking to Nikolajev, I got the feeling that… you put him off." He looked defensive. 

"Is that right?" His eyes narrowed. "Or maybe I was putting _you_ off. Not so easy to get cosy with 'Tobias' while I was standing there."

This was ridiculous. "That's not it at all," I argued, hands on hips. "I was really getting somewhere with him before you came over." 

He snorted. "Yes, I noticed. You seemed to be having a really serious conversation while he stared deep into your cleavage."

"Is that supposed to sound heroic? Who cares what he thought about me? He had information that was useful to us, and I was succeeding in getting it out of him until you turned up." I could feel myself getting exasperated, but what for? Why were we arguing? We had been getting along so well in the car. I decided I should calm the situation down. "Look, let's just forget it. We made some progress tonight, and that's what matters." 

"You mean, _you_ made some progress. I got in your way."

"Why are you being so childish?" We faced off for a few minutes, glowering at each other, and then my anger got the better of me. "Okay then, fine, _I_ was making progress. You weren't even making an effort to be polite."

"Yeah? Well maybe it's harder for me, not having such pretty eyelashes to flash at people," he said pointedly. 

There was something dark in the comment, dark and nasty. "What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded. 

He threw me a pitying look. "It means," he continued, voice echoing with sarcasm, "that you're great at getting information as long as it involves flirting with every man in the room. But you probably call it _being polite_." 

I felt blood rush to my cheeks, and bristled with outrage. "How dare you," I said through clenched teeth.

"I guess I'm a sucker too, though, letting you pump me for information in the car," he went on.

"If that's what you think of me, then perhaps I should have left you to crawl out of the Strahov on your own," I said slowly, my face hot but my voice cold with fury.

He looked at me for a long moment, and seemed to be preparing another insult, but then he just shook his head slightly, the venom gone. "This can wait til morning. I'm going to bed." He turned and started to climb the stairs. As if his verbal abuse wasn't enough, he was showing absolutely no concern for the fact that he was a guest under my roof. If I hadn't been wearing a dress and heels, I would have run over and kicked him in the head. He disappeared into the guest room and shut the door.

I couldn't speak with the anger that was choking me. To make matters worse, I could feel my eyes prickling with tears of indignation. I forced them back, swearing to myself that I would rather die than let him make me cry. I whirled around in the hallway, wanting to pick something up and break it, but I'd be damned if he'd let me ruin any of my possessions either. I stopped suddenly as I caught sight of his black holdall lying on the floor inside the front door. Maybe his Chirugai was inside, and I could smash it to bits. I snatched up the bag and looked inside. There wasn't a lot inside; boots, some clothes, data CDs, boxes of ammo. And a carefully wrapped package that looked as though it could contain the mysterious weapon. I touched the package, then reconsidered. It probably wasn't a good idea to try anything with an object that had a mind of its own. Or worse, an object that shared a mind with Kurtis. I zipped up the bag and marched upstairs with it. Without knocking I barged into the guest room, only to find Kurtis standing by the bed halfway through taking off his shirt. I stopped in my tracks for a second, taken aback at the sudden sight of his bare skin. He seemed just as startled by my abrupt appearance, and froze. Unable to stop my treacherous eyes from roving, I glimpsed the firmly muscled chest and taut stomach, the latter marked with smooth pink scar tissue, and my insides did an odd flip. A beat later my anger resumed control, and I hurled the holdall right at him, turning and stalking out without seeing what damage I caused. Then I stomped along the landing to my bedroom, and slammed the door behind me with far more force than was advisable in such an old house. 

* * *

:o Hope you like how this is going, keep reading and reviewing! The action really gets started next chapter (No, not _that_ sort of action, you filthy bunnies.) 


	5. Under Attack

:o Hi guys! Thanks for all the reviews, they make me feel warm and fuzzy :)

Paen – Hope you're still enjoying it. D'OH! Completely forgot about the whole Sleeper thing being found in Turkey. Let's just ignore that for the time being… *sweeps story under carpet* … might tweak chap 3 at some point so it looks like I knew all along. Btw, I'm dying for more of the AoD parody, what's keeping you?!

Duchezz – Thankyou! Maybe I'll write in Lara smashing some stuff up just for you.

Loki – Stock up on sugar, there's plenty more to come :p

Chapter 5: Under Attack 

I'd realised the first time our paths had crossed that Kurtis would be able to bring out mixed emotions in me, and tonight was the best example of that yet. I couldn't remember ever feeling so frustrated or confused before, even with all that had happened over the past weeks. In Paris, in Prague, my objectives were always clear and my single-mindedness helped me to cope with the flux of feelings that I experienced over Werner's death, being hunted by the police, and Kurtis trying to mess up my plans. In the Louvre, Kurtis made my blood boil for taking the Obscura painting, but his closeness made my heart skip like a lovestruck schoolgirl's at the same time. But even then I had a focus, so the confusion didn't get the better of me. Now I was, quite frankly, a mess. I lay in bed for what seemed like an eternity, unable to relax in mind or body, then when I got up and looked at the clock I discovered I'd only been in bed for half an hour. I tried to read to tire myself out or at least to distract my mind, but it was futile. I was still so angry with Kurtis I wanted to scream, but catching him off guard with his shirt undone had brought out the silly schoolgirl again, and she wouldn't go away. Plus I could feel his presence down the hallway like an ache. I wished he'd stayed in the hotel, hadn't even _come_ to the damned banquet, let me deal with things myself. His remarks had been mean, and that hurt but also shocked me – I hadn't expected him to behave that way. 

After a while the rage wore off a little and I started to just feel rather ashamed about caring so much what Kurtis thought or said. I also, thankfully, started to feel sleepy, and after staring out of the window for a while I returned to bed and eventually drifted into sleep.

Oblivion would have been nice, but my subconscious had other plans. In my dreams I wandered between Paris, Prague, the archaeology banquet, and the hallway downstairs where we had argued. In the hallway I was slapping Kurtis hard across the face trying to get a reaction other than that cool, distant stare; in the Strahov I had his blood on my hands and was sobbing because he was dead; at the hospital in Prague I was searching for him but couldn't find his room, all the beds were empty. In the Louvre I was running from him in my ball gown; at the banquet I was trying to give a speech but realised suddenly that I was in my underwear and he was staring at me, staring from across the room and smiling, and I forgot what I was saying; in his bedroom he was pushing me back against the wall and kissing me hard, hands in my hair, and I felt like I could die from the pleasure.

I was shocked awake by a hand on my shoulder, and was about to exclaim when a hand pressed over my mouth. Kurtis was crouching by my bedside in the dark. I felt an instant of panic, but he must have read my fear because he shook his head and whispered, "I heard someone moving downstairs." He held a finger to his lips to tell me to keep quiet, then moved his hand from my mouth. My heart was beating fast, and it took a moment for his statement to sink in. I was thinking back to our argument, wondering how I should react to this intrusion. He stood up and I saw that he had his gun ready. 

"Are you sure?" I whispered through the dark room. "This _is_ an old house; it makes lots of strange noises at night."

Kurtis shook his head. "There's definitely someone down there. Get up."

I climbed out of bed silently, stopping to grab my pistols from a dresser drawer and check that they had full ammo clips. At that moment I heard a noise too, a low creak that was too slow to have been one of the cats or an aged floorboard shifting. Someone was trying to move around downstairs as quietly as possible. We glanced at each other and moved towards the door noiselessly, guns ready. We paused there, close together, his breathing barely audible. I could feel that familiar electricity moving between us with our proximity, enhanced by the fact that neither of us was wearing much. He had clearly got out of bed in a rush – he had pulled on a pair of army fatigues (I was glad to see his trusty Chirugai hanging from the belt) but was bare chested and barefoot. I had been sleeping in only my underwear and a black vest, and my bare legs and arms were tingling, partly from the adrenalin of the situation, but also in response to the magnetism of his flesh. I took a deep breath.

I gestured to him to wait inside the door for a few moments after I left. He nodded, and I eased the door open a crack. There was no one to be seen on the hall outside, so I slipped out through the door, keeping close to the walls. I progressed along the landing keeping one gun trained ahead of me and one on the stairs that curved up from below. Nothing moved; nothing seemed disturbed in the hallway downstairs. Why hadn't the alarms gone off? There were sensors on every door and window in the house, and elaborate circuitry that prevented tampering. And that was assuming someone could even make it as far as the house – the gates were worthy of Fort Knox and there were cameras positioned on every external wall. I have a lot of things worth stealing hidden away in this house, so security has always been a primary concern. 

After a few more minutes of sneaking around, I started to wonder if maybe we _were_ just imagining things. Another possibility made my heart skip a beat – what if Kurtis had pretended to hear an intruder so that he could get into my bedroom? Then again, he had seemed genuinely alert and ready to fight. And after the things we had said to each other earlier, I doubted that he would have chosen to get up close and personal unless it was absolutely necessary. I mentally cursed him again for making my thoughts go round in circles no matter what he did. 

When I had checked the rooms all along the landing, I started to descend the stairs, both guns pointing ahead. The tiles of the main hall were cold under my feet, and the goosebumps reappeared on my arms and legs. I checked the drawing room first, then moved on towards the study. As I drew closer I noticed two things – a reddish glow visible under the closed door, and a faint crackling noise from within. Just as I realised I could smell smoke, and before I could get to the door, I heard Kurtis shout my name. The hall was suddenly full of a fiery light and I dived across the floor, rolling behind a display case in time to see Kurtis' Chirugai streaming through the air above me. At the same time gunfire roared suddenly and deafeningly around the hall, adding more of a blaze to the walls. I saw Kurtis on the stairs, Chirugai landing back on his outstretched hand, drawing his gun and firing into the shadows. Gunfire erupted again, and the display case above me exploded, spraying glass down onto me. Pistols ready again, I ran out and opened fire towards the same target as Kurtis. After a minute he stopped firing and walked forwards slowly through the smoky air, holding up a hand to tell me to lower my guns. I heard him kick something soft, then a rattle as a machine gun slid along the floor away from him. Reassured, I ran to grab the fire extinguisher from beneath the stairs and hauled it to the study. God only knew what damage had already been done in there, and I had to prevent any more. 

Luckily, the blaze had still been fairly small when I kicked through the door, and was limited to a stack of books and papers piled haphazardly into the waste paper bin. I put it out quickly before the books on the shelves or any of the furniture could catch fire, and then surveyed the damage. My heart sank. All the texts I had been using for research, and the files I had been assembling on the Nephilim and the Cabal had been gathered up and torched. There had been maps and drawings that had been difficult to get hold of, and I had had to call in favours from friends in various parts of the world to get my hands on them. I seemed very unlikely that I would be able to do that all over again. I scanned around for my laptop, thinking that at least that had some of the most important information on it, including digital photographs I had taken of some documents that I wasn't able to remove from museums and private collections. I went over to the desk and noticed that the computer was switched on but the hard drive was missing. Judging from the smell of melted plastic it had been ejected and tossed onto the fire. I stared at the wreckage for a minute longer, resisting the urge to pound my fists into the wall, and left the room.

Kurtis was crouched over the body, pulling the man up by the front of his jacket and staring into his face. He was dressed in black, and his clothing showed the bulk of body armour. He had taken a lot of bullets. A discarded balaclava lay on the floor beside him. Kurtis looked up as I approached. 

"Recognise him?" he asked. I looked at the bloodied, vacant face and shook my head. Kurtis shook the body in frustration and let it drop backwards onto the floor. He stood up beside me. "Bastard didn't have a thing on him, either, besides the hardware of course. Nothing to tell us who he was. Hadn't even taken anything."

"No," I replied. "His mission was strictly search and destroy." I sighed and looked around at the destruction of my home. 

"I'm guessing from the gear and the gun that he was military trained," Kurtis continued. "Plus the fact that he managed to get into this fortress."

"He was smart, too. Made sure all the information I had on the Nephilim was up in smoke before he came after us, just in case we fought back." 

Kurtis looked as horrified as I felt. "All of it?" I nodded. "Do you still have the files on your computer?" 

"No," I replied, feeling suddenly empty and very tired. "It's all gone." He looked as though he were about to say something. My leg was throbbing with pain, I noticed vaguely. 

"Hey, you're bleeding" Kurtis said, concern taking over from frustration about our lost research. He moved towards me and knelt to inspect my right leg, which I noticed was dark with blood from the knee down to the ankle. "Come on, I need to take a proper look at this and get you patched up. Where d'you keep your bandages?"

"In my bathroom," I replied, distractedly. My leg was about the last thing I was concerned about at that moment. I had to figure out what had happened here, who was responsible. But Kurtis wasn't taking no for an answer. 

"Come on then. Upstairs. _Now," he insisted. I shrugged, and let him lead me away. "I suppose this lot can wait."_

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Next chapter will be up very soon as it's pretty much done. Doctors and nurses, anyone? Tee hee :)


	6. Heroics

:o Hello again bunnies! Enjoy the new chapter, it's gonna take me a bit longer to get chapter 7 up cos I've hardly written any of it and I'm busy back at college now. But I'll get it here eventually, promise! 

Hope you lot like tattoos… ;)

**Chapter 6: Heroics**

In my en-suite bathroom I perched on a chair and let Kurtis rifle through my cabinet for medical supplies. I told him that I was perfectly capable of dressing my own wounds, but he ignored me and ordered me to sit down and keep still. In the bright electric light we were able to see the damage more clearly. Kurtis knelt on the floor and gently wiped away the blood, a cloth in one hand, the other hand holding the back of my knee to keep it steady. His attentiveness soothed me, and I found myself thinking less and less about the attack on the house and more and more about the sensation of his fingers on my skin. While he tended to me, he explained that I'd been cut by the glass from the cabinet, as I suspected, but only superficially. The main wound appeared to have been caused by one of the attacker's bullets, which had grazed the side of my thigh and drawn a lot of blood but luckily missed doing any more harm. He extracted a couple of fragments of glass from my cuts with tweezers, which I admit made me wince, and then started to apply a bandage. I thought back to the madness of those few moments. I remembered Kurtis calling my name before I dived for safety, him firing at the intruder while the intruder fired at me. 

"You saved my life," I told him, trying to keep my voice even. He looked up from the bandages and held my eye for a few long moments, then smiled a little smile and said, "Just think of it as repaying a favour." I felt myself flushing at this remark, but wasn't sure why. Maybe I just didn't feel that it was right to compare one event to another like that. Just because I'd helped him out before, it didn't mean I couldn't be grateful. 

"No, Kurtis, you saved my life several times over tonight. I didn't even hear anyone in the house. He could have murdered me in my bed if you hadn't woken me. And if you hadn't been covering my back downstairs –" I faltered. What did this mean? I probably _would have been dead without him. But I'd never come that close before, had I? Was I losing my touch, my reflexes? I felt helpless, and a little foolish. Kurtis reached up and stroked away a loose lock of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. "Hey," he said, "I'd be dead without you, too, you know." I stared into those beautiful blue eyes, wondering again if he could read my mind. If anything could make me feel like more of a fool it would be him seeing into my thoughts, discovering how vulnerable I felt in his presence._

 "All done," he said, standing up. I was disappointed that the moment had ended, and his hands had left my skin, but tried not to show it. I scanned his body as he walked across the room back to the cabinet to return the unused bandages, taking advantage of the light. I was a little disheartened that he seemed to have escaped the fight without a single scratch, so I couldn't offer to return the favour and play doctor. I had half glimpsed tattoos on his back in the dark bedroom before, but could study them more clearly now. A black design crept across the skin of his back and shoulders, creeping around his left side and disappearing somewhere under his waistband. The shapes and symbols seemed vaguely familiar, but were not Celtic or Indian or anything else I could put my finger on. Perhaps they had something to do with the Lux Veritatis. They were beautiful, and so was his body, and I longed to run my fingers over the tattoos, trace every meandering pattern and see where it took me. I closed my eyes, breathed deep, and tried to clear my head. I had to stop behaving like this when there was so much else to worry about. I opened my eyes again to catch him standing by the washbasin studying me as scrupulously as I had him moments before. Horribly aware of my half-dressed state, I got up and tried to shift his attention. 

"Thanks for patching me up," I said lightly. "Sadly, my oak paneling doesn't heal as fast as I do." He smiled, but looked at me seriously again. 

"So. What now? I vote that we get some sleep before we do anything else. I'm pretty jet-lagged. Plus it's tiring, being such a hero and all." His expression didn't even flicker as he said that last part, but I knew he was teasing me. 

"Don't get too used to me being the damsel in distress," I said wryly. "No doubt I'll be saving your skin again before too long." I put extra emphasis on the word _again_, enjoying the game. 

He sighed and looked at me pityingly. "You do realise I was only pretending to be so badly injured to give you the satisfaction of saving me. It can't be easy, being a woman in a man's world."

I tried to scowl but it kept turning into a smile. This was fun. "I suppose you're right," I replied. "But it can't be easy being a _boy_ in a man's world, either."

"Hmm. Touché," he said softly. Surely he wasn't backing down that easily. But he seemed serious again now. "Listen, Lara, about what I said before. After the banquet. I'm sorry."

I looked back at him wondering how much I should make him suffer. "Apology accepted," I said after a pause. "It would be a little churlish of me to hold a grudge after you saved my life." 

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, I was rude. It's got nothing to do with me how you… conduct your business."

I marveled at his nerve. He wasn't really apologising at all. He went to pass me in the doorway but I put out an arm to stop him. "What you said was out of order. You were wrong." My voice was cold.

He looked at my outstretched arm, smiling slightly, then leaned closer to me, and lowered his voice as though letting me in on a secret. "I know."

I dropped my arm and let him past. Damn him, he'd done it again, and managed to have the last word. I was speechless. Earlier I had been thinking that he really knew nothing about me, but he certainly knew how to wind me up. From my bedroom door I watched his gorgeous decorated back as he retreated down the hall to his room. He had to be the most infuriating man who ever lived. So handsome and yet so bloody difficult.

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Let me know what you think! The plot thickens next chapter… Dun dun DUHHH!


	7. Wreckage

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o-o

Hello bunnies, finally another chapter! I wanted to upload chapter 8 too, but it's not finished yet and I thought one new chapter was better than none. I promise there'll be more soon. Thanks again for all the encouraging reviews, they help keep me inspired! 

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Chapter 7: Wreckage

Despite a very late and eventful night, I found myself awake quite early. I had a shower to get rid of any blood and grime left over from our nocturnal adventure, then dried and plaited my hair, got dressed in jeans and a black blouse, and went downstairs. 

In the daylight I realised what a mess had been made. There were holes in the plaster and the wood paneling of the walls, dust and glass littered the floor, and I barely recognised the furniture. Blood was spattered fairly liberally to finish off the scene. I picked my way past the debris, noticing a particularly wide smear of dried blood on the floor where the body had been. When I got up that morning, Kurtis and the body had both disappeared. As I was pretty sure the body had stayed dead and not walked out on its own, the most likely option was that Kurtis had taken it somewhere to dispose of it. I checked in the garage. He had taken my Land Rover, which I supposed was better than pinching the Aston Martin or the Bentley, but I admit it irked me that he'd taken a vehicle without asking. Then again, I supposed that clearing up bodies for me after a gunfight could be viewed as quite a romantic gesture in the bizarre world that Kurtis and I inhabited.

I wandered through to the study to see if there was anything that could be salvaged from the charred mess in the bin. It wasn't good. What hadn't been burnt beyond recognition had been caked with scum from the fire extinguisher and ruined anyway. I picked through the meaningless fragments anyway, more to pass time until Kurtis returned than anything else. I tried to look on the bright side: Cappadocia was a strong lead, and the underground cities were easy to find. And if there was a dig currently underway there, maybe I could even get us a place on it… Meeting Nikolajev had certainly been fortuitous. 

After some time I heard the front door open and went out into the hall to greet Kurtis. He looked disheveled, and had dark stains on the knees of his jeans which I took to be muddy earth. 

"Hi," he said, seeing me there. 

"Morning," I replied brightly. "So what did you do with him?"

He wagged a finger at me. "Now that would be telling. Don't worry, it's dealt with."

"Hmm," I said sceptically. "I hope I'm not going to have any real skeletons popping out of my closet at Hallowe'en." 

"No, no, you'll have to make do with the metaphorical ones. I'm sure you have plenty of those."

I smiled, deciding to let that one go. "Did you sleep okay?"

He yawned. "Yeah. Not for long enough though. Have you had breakfast? I'm starved."

"I'll make us something," I replied, turning towards the kitchen. 

He followed me, peering into the fridge over my shoulder. I grimaced. Cooking was _not_ my greatest talent, and I wasn't getting any inspiration from the ingredients on display. As a teenager at finishing school I had been taught how to eat impeccably, but not how to boil an egg. My lack of enthusiasm must have showed, because he gently moved me out of the way and started pulling out packets of food. 

"I'll tell you what," he said. "I'll make us something while you go and start making a plan."

"A plan for what?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "That's a good start."

I left him to his own devices in the kitchen and went to sit at the dining table with a pen and notepad. I scribbled down all the most important points I could remember from the information I had lost, and some details about Nikolajev and his theories, more to get my brain into gear than as an aid to memory. I thought about the questions we needed to answer, the puzzles that needed solving. What Nephilim artifacts had been found in Cappadocia? Was it possible that Nikolajev's team had found the location of the Nephilim ark? If any more of the half-breeds had survived, how could they be killed? And what had happened to Karel in the Strahov? The thought was deeply unsettling. He had been hurt badly but I didn't dare hope that he had been destroyed. It was likely that he was recovering somewhere, planning his next move. All these thoughts busied my mind, but one was more important than all others – who had sent soldier boy to kill us last night? A number of people knew that I was researching the Nephilim because they had helped me gain access to the papers and books that were now ash. But most were old friends that had been happy to help me out.

I was mulling this over when I was distracted by the smell of bacon. A minute later Kurtis came in bearing two plates of bacon and scrambled eggs, then left again to fetch a pot of coffee and two cups. 

"Disposing of a body for me and then making breakfast," I remarked. "You're becoming quite the gentleman." He sat down opposite me at the huge table and smiled, then poured himself a cup of coffee. "Oh God, I hope you washed your hands," I added suddenly. 

He reassured me that he had, so I tucked in. It was fabulous. Food can have such a fantastic grounding effect. 

"So how's the plan coming?" he asked, interrupting my gluttony. I pondered the question of our would-be assassin. A new idea occurred to me.

"No one knew you were going to be staying with me here last night," I said. "Even I didn't know until yesterday evening. So it's more likely that our visitor was only after me." 

"Sounds reasonable," he replied. "But more importantly, how did he get into the house?"

I frowned. "That's what I don't understand. No one's got past the security before. I still have to check the cameras." I polished off my food, and then carried my coffee through to a small room at the back of the house. I sat down in front of the security monitors and started to scan through the footage from the previous night. Kurtis stood in the doorway and watched. I took my time, not wanting to miss anything from the ten or so cameras. 

"Anything?" Kurtis asked after a while. 

"No." I rubbed my eyes. "I don't get it. I suppose someone could have climbed over the outer wall and avoided the gate, although they would have been lucky not to get spiked in the process. And it's possible they could have hidden in the garden and not been seen on camera. But to get to the house from the garden, you have to cross the path –" I gestured to the screen which showed a section of lamplit gravel path – "and there are lights all around the house, so you'd definitely be seen."

We talked through the possibilities, but there wasn't any other way of getting into the house undetected, aside from being invisible of course. Kurtis made an unsettling suggestion.

"Your butler's away at the moment, right?" I nodded. "And I guess he has keys and alarm codes, all that stuff?" I nodded again, worried. "Could anyone have got to him?"

There was a telephone on the desk and I reached for it now. I quickly dialed Winston's sister's number and after a few rings she answered. I spoke to Winston, who had had a perfectly normal time since leaving the Manor the day before and hadn't been approached by anyone. I decided not to tell him about the intruder just yet; I didn't want him to worry for the rest of the weekend. After hanging up the phone, I sat back and sighed.

"So we don't know how he got in, or more importantly who sent him." We sat deep in thought for a few minutes, the puzzle turning over and over in my mind. I decided to look at it from a different perspective – how did _I_ get into my house? Suddenly a solution struck me. My eyes widened in alarm, and I got up and hurried to the garage that adjoined the house. Kurtis followed close behind. I stopped short at the Aston Martin, heart sinking. The boot had been prised open from within. Unbelievable. 

"My God," Kurtis muttered behind me. Both of us had been in the garage that morning, but the Aston Martin was parked at the furthest end from the door and we hadn't noticed it.

"Looks like we picked up some excess baggage last night," I said, wincing at the damage to my beautiful car. "You know what this means?"

"You're going to find his body and kill him again? He deserves it," Kurtis said wistfully, looking at the bent metal. 

"It means that someone at the banquet had a bone to pick with us. That's the only place I've taken this car in the last week."

He caught my eye. "Nikolajev?"

"I don't know. He certainly didn't seem suspicious when I was talking to him. But then again, I'm a dreadful judge of character. I've been double-crossed more times than I care to remember." 

"Well, I think it's time we paid Tobias a visit," Kurtis said, and I nodded. 

"Even if it wasn't him, he'll need to be warned. He's bound to be another target, with everything he knows about the Nephilim." We went to fetch our guns.

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:o Next time – we finally get to some baddies! See you soon :)


	8. Breaking and Entering

:o Here's the new chapter as promised – complete with baddies! Guns! Blood! Yeah! Enjoy.

**Chapter 8: Breaking and Entering **

We set off for London immediately. I was cautious that we may run into more trouble while visiting Nikolajev. After our would-be assassin had failed to report back to his employers, his absence would almost certainly have been noticed. Thinking that we might have to split up at some point or make a speedy retreat, I suggested to Kurtis that we took a motorbike each. When he had finally contained his excitement, we were on our way. 

The sky was dark with rainclouds, and by the time we got to London the heavens had opened and we were soaked through. We had decided to make our first port of call the university archaeology department where Nikolajev's office was situated. He may be working there over the weekend, and if not then we could check around to find his home address. I parked my bike in an alley close to the department building, while Kurtis parked his around the opposite side. If our escape route was compromised, it made sense to keep our getaway options open. I met him back at the front doors.

We peered through the glass. There was a porter's office inside, but no one behind the desk on a Saturday. The lights were off. 

"If anyone's here, they will have used the keypad," I said, pointing to a panel beside the doors. "We'll have to look for another way in."

"Not necessarily," Kurtis muttered, still looking in towards the porter's office. "Do you think they'd have the number written down in there?"

"Maybe," I replied. "But why? We'd have to get inside to find out anyway."

He didn't reply, but looked around to see if anyone was nearby. We were alone. He put his arms out in front of him, palms facing upwards, and stood very still as though concentrating. 

"Kurtis?" I walked around to face him. His eyelids started to flicker strangely, and his eyes seemed dead and distant. I felt very unnerved. "Kurtis? What are you doing?" I put a hand on his arm. Either he couldn't hear me or was unable to respond. He seemed to stay like that for an eternity, although it was probably only a minute or so. Eventually he seemed to come back to himself, blinking hard and sagging slightly as though exhausted. Without speaking he walked over to the keypad, tapped in a five-digit number, and pushed open the now unlocked door. 

I followed, bemused. "What the hell was that?"

He looked around, and headed for a door that led to the stairs. "I call it farseeing. I can… extend my vision, outside of my body, and look round corners, into locked rooms, that sort of thing. The key code was taped to the wall in the office."

"Liar," I said. He looked at me questioningly. "You told me you didn't have any other powers."

He smiled slightly, and carried on up the stairs. "Must have slipped my mind." He hardly sounded convinving. Why hadn't he told me about this last night, when I'd asked him? What was he up to? I flushed as I realised that while he was in his bedroom, he could have been peering all around my house. At least he'd been out when I had my shower that morning. I wouldn't put it past him to have a peek without me knowing.

"Where are we going?" I asked, changing the subject. 

"Fourth floor, room 4.11," he replied. "There was a list of office numbers for all the staff, too, downstairs." Although I was cross about his secretiveness, I had to admit it was a pretty impressive talent. He was even more intriguing than I'd thought.

We walked along the fourth floor corridor silently, but there didn't seem to be a soul around. Room 4.11 was locked, but we could see through the glass panel in the door that it was empty and the lights were switched off. We checked around again to make sure we were alone, then I kicked the door in. 

Nikolajev's room was fascinating. Clearly he hadn't been visited by our pyromaniac because all his photographs, diagrams, maps and notes were still pinned up around the walls. Kurtis went over to the desk and started leafing through some files there. I took out the digital camera from my backpack, and started to move slowly around the room, analysing the documents and photographing anything that seemed useful. I was soon completely absorbed.

"This is fantastic," I said in awe. "These texts can make up for a lot of what was lost in the fire. Not all the files I had on my laptop though," I added with a sigh.

A moment later Kurtis cleared his throat. "I have a confession to make," he said awkwardly. "It should cheer you up a bit, but you're also gonna be really pissed off." 

I looked at him through narrowed eyes. He was avoiding my stare. "Go on," I said.

"Last night. After we got back from the banquet and you'd gone to bed, I –" he rubbed the side of his face in embarassment. "I went downstairs, and I checked out the files on your computer." 

I was shocked. "You hacked into my private files?"

"Well – yeah. And then I, uh, copied them all onto discs."

I stared at him, stunned. "So that means -"

"That we've still got copies of all those files, yeah. It's not all lost."

I scowled. "I was going to say, it means that you're even more of a weasel than I thought." He looked pained. "Why didn't you just wait until I showed you the research myself? Not that I could have done, I suppose, because it was burnt to a cinder, but still. Why did you sneak around like that?" I wasn't really angry; after all he'd saved data that would have otherwise been lost. I was just exasperated, and curious. 

He shrugged. "I don't know. Habit, maybe? I'm used to sneaking around. And I wanted to be sure you weren't keeping anything back from me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Like you keeping back your 'farsight' from me, you mean?" He smiled sheepishly. 

I shrugged. There was no point getting annoyed when we had work to do here. Plus, I could relate to his argument. "I suppose I would have done the same thing in your position," I said. Hiding a smile, I went on; "I went through your bag when you arrived." 

"Is that so?" he replied. "I guess we're not safe turning our backs on each other." Amused, we returned our attention to Nikolajev's office. 

"Hey," Kurtis said suddenly, breaking my concentration. I looked up reluctantly. He was holding up a sheaf of notes. "These are descriptions of some of the artifacts they brought back from Cappadocia. He mentions having them checked out by another guy, Professor –" he scanned the paper in his hand. "Caffrey. Martin Caffrey. Seems like he works in this department too. If I can find his office, the artifacts could still be there." 

I nodded. "Good idea." He left the room, and I heard footsteps retreat along the corridor. I finished scouring the documents pinned up around the walls, then went over to the desk and started looking through drawers. After a while I heard a muffled crash from somewhere upstairs. Kurtis getting into Caffrey's office, no doubt. Nikolajev's desk drawers didn't hold anything interesting, but I decided it might be worth having a look on his computer. I switched on the machine and sat back in the office chair while it started up. I was just starting to browse through the files on the hard disk when I heard the door open behind me. 

I spoke without looking up. "So, did you find anything?" 

Cold metal pressed against the back of my neck, and a cold, Scandinavian voice replied: "Yes, Miss Croft, I would say I did."

* * *

The pain in my head was unbearable, but I managed out of pure obstinacy to stay conscious. I sprawled on the floor by the desk, trying to summon the strength to get to my hands and knees. Vaguely, I heard someone speak.

"Check the rest of the building. She's here with someone else." Several sets of heavy footsteps hurried off down the corridor. _Shit_. Why couldn't I have kept my mouth shut? It had been careless of me to assume we were alone. And now Kurtis could be in danger. _Idiot_. 

"Nikolajev," I croaked. 

"Wrong again, Croft," the voice said. I focused all my strength and clambered to my knees. The same gun that had struck me to the ground pointed straight at my face. But it wasn't Nikolajev holding it. 

"I don't believe we've met," I said through teeth gritted against anger and pain. There was blood, hot and sticky, on the side of my head. I recognised the man in front of me from the banquet, although I hadn't paid him much attention then. He was dark-haired and, aside from the gun, rather unprepossessing. It was Nikolajev's assistant.

"Goran Nordqvist. Pleased to meet you. I already know who you are, although I didn't expect you to still be quite so alive. I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Trent the other evening, but he wasn't quite so charming." 

I swayed on my knees, but didn't fall. "Where's Nikolajev?" I managed to say.

"Hmm. Do you think I'm working for him? Or do you think he's working for me? Interesting puzzle, no? Don't do that," he finished sharply as I moved a hand towards my holsters. His gun jabbed closer to me.

"Go on," I said, raising my hands above my head. "I'm sure you're dying to tell me all about it." 

He smiled thinly. "Nikolajev is dead. I don't think I want to tell you any more than that. I'm here to take care of his paperwork. And now you, too, of course." I glared at him through the pounding of my head. "I assume Mr. Trent is around here somewhere, so when he's been found I can tie up all my loose ends at once."

A sudden roar of machine gun fire tore through the silence of the building, followed by another shorter burst. I screwed up my eyes at the sound, and breathed in a ragged gasp. _No, please, not Kurti_s.  Nordqvist laughed quietly, no doubt at the look on my face as much as the sound itself. 

"Well, there goes one loose end," he said. If I could have done anything at all at that moment to hurt him, I would have. I wanted to rip his head from his shoulders with my bare hands, but I was trapped by the gun in my face. Nordqvist didn't seem ready to take his eyes off me until his men returned. How the hell was I going to get out of this? 

Minutes ticked by, and then a noise began in the hallway outside like irregular, shuffling footsteps approaching. After a few moments the door swung open and a black-clad soldier stumbled into the room. At the sound my eyes flashed up towards the figure in the doorway, who was bleeding from a wide gash in his chest. Nordqvist also turned automatically towards the door, and I grabbed the opportunity. In a heartbeat I was on my feet, one hand snatching the gun from his hand while the other reached for the pistol in my right holster, which I levelled at Nordqvist's head. I pointed the barrel of his own gun at his gut. Behind him the soldier sank to his knees, moving his mouth but producing no sound. He fell forwards onto his stomach and stopped moving. 

I glared into Nordqvist's face. "Now, what should I do with you?" 

He suddenly lunged, grasping for my arm, and I fired the gun in my left hand. He staggered sideways, blood pumping from the hole in his torso, and I hurried past him to the door. I turned and shot him once more in the back with my pistol. 

I dashed down the corridor and onto the stairway. Had Kurtis been upstairs or downstairs? Up, I thought. I turned to climb the stairs, but a figure was hurtling towards me. Another soldier, already dead, was thrown down the stairs and I had to leap aside to avoid being carried down with it. I looked up. Kurtis was standing at the top of the flight, Chirugai in hand, blood dripping from the five exposed blades. As our eyes met, we each breathed a visible sigh of relief that the other was – relatively – unhurt. He jogged down the stairs towards me. 

"Are they all dead?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Now let's get the fuck out of here."

* * *

What do you think? Please let me know if you like/don't like how things are going. I'll post more VERY soon. 

Next chapter: Fight! Fight! Fight! That tension is all getting a bit much for Lara and Kurtis ;) 


	9. Ready to Rumble

Grrr! Fight time! The filthier bunnies among you should like this chapter :)

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Chapter 9: Ready to Rumble

The rain continued all the way home, and although we arrived back at the Manor by early evening, the gloom made it seem later. With the bikes parked up again in the garage, we went into the house leaving a trail of soggy footprints. Winston was standing in the hall, still in his raincoat with his bag at his side, looking around at the mess from the previous night with a most mournful expression. He looked up as he heard us approach, and relief flooded his elderly features. 

"Miss Croft! You're alright! I didn't know where you were," he said, and I rushed over and hugged him. 

"Winston, I'm so sorry, what must you have thought." Despite the urgency of our business in London, I felt terrible that I'd left the house in such an awful state for my friend to come home to. But why was he home today? 

"You seemed unsettled on the telephone before, my dear. I thought perhaps something was wrong." He looked around again at the devastation. "I thought I should come home early."

"Darling Winston," I said, hugging him tight again. "Don't worry, everything's fine. Now come and sit down and I'll explain." I led him off to the kitchen where I sat him down at the table and insisted on making him a cup of tea. By this point Winston had gathered himself enough to notice that I had company. 

"This is Kurtis Trent, Winston. You remember, I told you about how we met in Prague." He nodded. 

"Yes, yes, of course. It's delightful to meet you Mr. Trent. I've heard a lot about you." He tried to get up to shake Kurtis' hand but I put a firm hand on his shoulder. 

"Stay there," I ordered. "Tea." 

Kurtis smiled warmly at Winston, and shook his hand. "The pleasure's all mine. I'm sorry you had to come home to such a mess, I'm afraid most of it's my fault." 

"Oh, don't be silly," I said. "Things would be a lot worse if you hadn't been here." Winston looked startled. I sighed, and told him the story of the last 24 hours, including the banquet, the intruder, and where we had been this afternoon, but I left out most of the more gory and dangerous details. Winston knew I led an unconventional life, but I didn't want to give him a heart attack. When I was convinced that he was okay, I told him to have a relaxing evening in his quarters, and then went to get changed. 

Kurtis and I met back in the library upstairs after changing into dry clothes. I had another computer there, which I switched on and started to download the photographs of Nikolajev's study from my digital camera. Kurtis fetched the CDs with the data he had pirated from my laptop, and set them on the desk beside me. He also brought a small package which we examined together. 

"This was the only thing of Nikolajev's left in Caffrey's office," he explained. "I didn't have chance to look at it properly before I was attacked." He unwrapped the paper gently, and I leaned close to see what was inside. It was a palm-sized metal disc, possibly gold, that was deeply marked on either side with a winged figure surrounded by unfamiliar symbols. Kurtis frowned, and picked up the crumpled paper it had been wrapped in. I noticed that there were several sheets covered in handwriting – the notes Kurtis had picked up in Nikolajev's office. He scanned over them, then stopped and read me a few lines.

"'Gold medallion found in concealed chamber behind altar in east church, level three of Derinkuyu. Remarkably well preserved, medallion was held in hands of stone angel. Similar angels in each of the other churches had no such ornamentation, probably stolen many years ago when city was raided. Symbols on medallion bear no relation to missionary artifacts found in recent years; probably much older. Paintings found in other, deeper chambers have similar symbols – will have better idea of origin when paintings have been carbon dated.'" He squinted at the disc in his hand again. "I think – no, but that can't be right." 

"What is it?" I asked urgently.

"They look like Lux Veritatis symbols," he replied, puzzled. "But I never heard of any of the Order living in Cappadocia." He shook his head. "With the rest of the Order gone, and all their records destroyed, I don't see how I can find out." 

"Do you understand the symbols?"

He shrugged. "Some of them. Only the elders knew all the ancient symbols. Translations were sent to people like my dad. I wonder what happened to the other medallions…" he trailed off. I looked up at him, and realised how close together our faces were. Feeling awkward, I sat back in my chair. 

"So what now?" I asked. Despite the new discovery, I wasn't in the mood for work. I had to work off some adrenalin before my brain could be of much use, so I suggested that after downloading the remaining pictures we should go down to the gym. Kurtis had plainly been desperate to get back in a gym after his stint in hospital, and I needed a workout to vent some frustration. He seemed pleased with the idea.

Back downstairs, I gave him a tour of my facilities. I had converted half of the ground floor rooms into gym space, as I prioritised working out over socialising. Some elderly family friends had been appalled at my renovations, saying that I was destroying my heritage with every antique column and carpet I removed. But I've never been much of a traditionalist, and at least it got the message across to the old dears that I was never going to be a socialite.

I led him past the large tiled pool, probably my favourite feature of the whole house, and into the workout area next door that was kitted out with all kinds of athletic equipment. I turned to watch him running a hand idly along the top of a vaulting horse, looking around the vast room. 

"I'm impressed," he said.

"There's also an assault course in the grounds, but –" I gestured towards the rain-streaked windows. "- it's probably not the best day for that."

He looked around, clearly not sure what to try first. Then he looked back at me.

"This is all very nice," he said, "but I think I want to fight."

I was confused. "Fight?"

"Yeah. I want to fight. With you." He said it very matter-of-factly, but I suspected an ulterior motive, and must have looked unsure.

"Come on, I need the practice," he urged. I could see he was itching for a well-pitched battle. "It's either that, or I'll have to ask Winston."

I stared back at him levelly. "Okay then. Lets see how rusty you really are."

We cleared some space in the middle of the room and then stood, sizing each other up while we stretched. 

"I'll try not to hurt you too much," he said, smiling irresistibly.

"Oh, I won't give you the chance. Even out of pity," I replied. We began, slowly at first, enjoying the feel of each carefully executed movement. I noted with interest the difference in our styles; I had trained in karate and some kung fu, but he moved more like a kickboxer. His balance and control were excellent; I was impressed. Maybe not so rusty after all. We continued to trade blows, getting into a faster rhythm. After a while I noticed that his hands kept ending up on my waist, brushing against the exposed skin there.

"Funny, I don't recognise that move," I said, taking hold of his hands and removing them from my waist, letting my thumbs stroke against his wrists as I let go. The tingling thrill of the unexpected contact combined with the energy pumping around my body was a heady mixture, and Kurtis felt it too. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes now, and I thought this might be a good moment to take a break.

I walked over to the edge of the room to take a drink from the water fountain. I wiped my face with a towel, and as I was bending down to replace it on the floor, Kurtis sneaked up behind me and slapped me on the behind. I whirled around and grabbed him by the throat. He was clearly taken aback at my speed. 

"That's cheating," I said coolly, keeping my grip on his neck. I wasn't letting him get away with such a dirty trick.

"Hey, just testing your reflexes," he replied innocently.

"Well you can keep your hands to yourself." I let him go, assuming that he'd got the point. I started to walk away towards the door. Perhaps things had gone far enough for one day. I didn't want him getting too cocky. I had needed a good workout to clear my head, not an excuse get even more hot and bothered.

"Can't blame a man for trying," I heard him mutter behind me. I turned around again. 

"No. But I can break both his arms. And legs, if necessary." I headed back towards the door, but it suddenly slammed in my face. I looked at Kurtis, who was still standing a few metres away, right arm outstretched towards the door. 

"Now that is _definitely_ cheating." 

"I never claimed to be a good sport." He had that expression again, the one he had had in the Louvre, cold and appraising but hot and penetrating at the same time. I hated it when he looked at me like that, when I couldn't tell if he was deciding whether to kiss me or cut me open. We stared each other down for a few minutes. 

"What do you want?" I asked him at last. I felt wary, unsure of my footing. He didn't answer, just kept boring into me with his eyes. 

I stepped closer to him, and slowly began pacing around him. He mirrored me, and I was reminded of how we had prowled around each other in the airlock at the Strahov. But now it felt even more dangerous. I wondered if he'd try using telekinesis against me.

We were fighting again, but he wasn't playing as fair this time. His punches kept turning into grabs, his kicks trying to knock me off my feet. I evaded him, but he just fought harder and suddenly we were locked together like wrestlers, shaking and sweaty. I couldn't move my arms.

"Not bad, Trent," I said coolly. I stamped on his foot with mine, then threaded my leg through his and kicked it out from under him. I threw him to the floor where he fell face down, and before he could get up I reached out my right leg, pushing the sole of my boot firmly against his neck. 

"If you're not going to play by the rules, neither will I. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't snap your neck." I pushed a little harder with my foot to show that I was serious. Suddenly he rolled over, grabbing my leg as he did so and spinning me to the ground. I was winded, flat on my back, and he took advantage of the moment to roll on top of me, snatching my arms and pinning me down. 

"I think you like my neck too much for that," he said slowly. I struggled hard but gravity was against me. How had I managed to walk into another of his traps? I couldn't let him kiss me now, no matter how much the thought appealed to my baser instincts, or how fast my pulse was racing. I'd already let two men get past my defences in the last 48 hours, and wasn't ready to do it again. I glared at him as if to say 'don't even try it'. He got to his feet, and held out a hand to help me up. I didn't take it. Without another word, I walked towards the door. 

Kurtis circled around in front of me, blocking my path. 

"You want me as badly as I want you," he said simply.

I was furious, as much with myself as with Kurtis, but I wanted to take it out on him.

"Stop it," I snapped. 

"Stop what?" he shot back, raising his own voice now.

"Stop pushing me. From the minute we met you've been trying to get the better of me. If you're not holding a gun to my head, you're insulting me in my own house or stealing files from my computer. But this is going too far. What are you trying to prove?"

"What am _I_ trying to prove?" He jabbed a finger at my chest. "What are you trying to prove? That you're too good for me? You might want me to think that, but here –" he laid the tip of his finger on my chest, gently, over where my heart was thumping angrily - "here, you feel something."

I shoved his hand away. "I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man alive," I spat. 

His eyes narrowed. Suddenly he grabbed me and hauled me over his shoulder, marching across the room before I could even compose myself enough to protest. He shouldered open the door to the pool room, and ignoring my pounding fists, launched me into the water. I shrieked as the cold water engulfed me, and fought my way back up to the surface. He stood by the door, head cocked to one side slightly, eyeing me in amusement. 

"Its just as well I'm not the last man alive, then, isn't it?" he said, and walked out. 

I was going to kill him.

* * *

:o Will Kurtis live to see another day? You'll find out very soon, I promise. Please keep reviewing, I want to know I'm not just writing this for my own perverted entertainment! 


	10. Lost

:o Greetings again! Glad people still seem to be enjoying it, I'm still enjoying writing it so yay! 

Duchezz – I hereby initiate you into the Order of the Filthy Bunny :)  Anyone else want to join? It involves – er – looking at Kurtis a lot. hehe

One note concerning swearing – I understand that some readers don't like the use of strong language, I totally appreciate that and I try to only use swearing when I feel that's really what the character would say (I refer to the end of chap 8). I only use language that I feel serves the story and never mean to offend. If anyone has suggestions about ratings I will be glad to hear them – I'm from the UK so not that familiar with the US style ratings on the site. 

Anywho! Just a short one for now, short but (bitter)sweet :)

**Chapter 10: Lost**

I'd had one too many soakings that day, and by the time I had dried off from the most recent one it was getting late. I decided to go to bed. I didn't have the patience for another confrontation yet, and I certainly couldn't face Kurtis after he'd humiliated me. I didn't know how I was supposed to react to him now. Why did he have to keep making everything so difficult? Maybe Croft Manor wasn't big enough for both of us after all. 

In the morning I went downstairs cautiously, hoping I wouldn't have to face Kurtis for a while, but he was nowhere to be seen. He'd probably gone out to clear his head. That was good; we both needed some space. I made a cup of tea and went back upstairs to the library to distract myself with some work. The gold medallion was missing from the desk; perhaps Kurtis had taken it to his room to study it closer. I sat down and reached to turn on my computer, but it was already on. A written document was open on the screen.

I read the first couple of lines, and went cold. I ran along the hall and threw open the door to the room where Kurtis had stayed. All his things were gone. I checked in the drawers and cupboards just in case, but it was no use. He'd packed up and left. I ran downstairs and out into the garden. At the gate I stared up and down the road, but there was no sign of him. Of course there wasn't. He could have left at any time during the night, and probably wasn't even in the country any more. Blinking hard to clear my eyes, I made my way back to the library, where I sat down and read the whole of the letter. 

"Dear Ms. Croft,

Just writing to thank you for your hospitality over the past two days. My business trip seems to be over now, but its been interesting, and fairly useful, if not all I'd hoped. Apologies for not saying goodbye in person, but I didn't really want to show my face again in case you removed it. 

Anyway, since I've repaid my debt to you, there seemed to be no point in hanging around. I get the message. I may love a challenge, but I'm not a complete idiot. If you're not ready or willing for there to be anything between us, I can't make it happen. It's probably best that we just keep out of each other's way.

You've probably noticed by now that I've taken the medallion, and the CDs with your research files. Don't worry, I copied the files onto your computer first. Seems fair to both start with the same odds.

Maybe I'll see you in Turkey.

Regards,

Kurtis."

I sat unmoving for a long time. I felt as though my heart had dropped into my stomach. I realised how true it was that you don't know a good thing until it's gone. Congratulations Lara, I thought. You really showed him who's boss. He had tried to keep the tone of the letter light, but his hurt showed through regardless. The comment about repaying his debt stung me the most, reducing what had happened between us to business. I had saved his life in Prague, and he had saved mine here, and that had created a special kind of trust that ran deeper than the annoying similarities in our personalities and our mutual physical attraction. But I had tried to ignore that bond, and now he was gone. I must really have wounded his pride if he wouldn't even tell me he was leaving. What would I have done if he had? Would I have asked him to stay? Told him that he was right, that I wanted him more than anything else I could remember? Probably not. My pride would have got in the way again, and I would have let him walk away from me without realising what a mistake it was until later. Kurtis must have known this too, and that's why he kept away, saving himself some dignity. I put my head in my hands. I was a real piece of work. I didn't know what I was so afraid of. Losing my self-control, maybe, or letting someone else have that kind of power over me. I didn't want to fall in love with Kurtis, convinced that to do so would make me weaker, so I'd tried to avoid the kind of contact that might make that happen. The rational half of me governed when it came to matters like this, and as a rule I only directed my passionate side towards the pursuit of an artifact or a foe. But now that voice was speaking up inside me, arguing against my reason. Maybe you're already in love, it said, and you're weaker if you don't do something about it. I told it to shut up. I had always worked alone and been better off that way. But there was no denying that just the thought of going for the rest of the day without seeing Kurtis made me feel more than miserable. 

I scanned through the letter again, and let my eyes stop at the last sentence. "Maybe I'll see you in Turkey," I read aloud. There was a glimmer of hope in that line. We both had business to take care of in Cappadocia, and moping around here wasn't going to help anybody. It was time to start packing.

* * *

Poor Lara. *sniff* She didn't even get chance to break anything over his head! 

Next chapter - Turkey here we come!


	11. Derinkuyu

:o Wahey! I finally finished the new chapter! Sorry it took so long, been busy. And so many other great fics to read! What a talented lot. I'm glad people are still enjoying my story, thanks for reading and reviewing. 

Jewell and Mystiqueela: I welcome you into the Order! We worship Kurtis the God of Chocolate nightly at the Sanitarium. Heehee :)

Will: thankyou for lovely review! Get writing! It's very rewarding to get your ideas down, and once you start you realise you can't stop. 

Anyway, on to Turkey.

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Chapter 11: Derinkuyu

The day after I got Kurtis' letter, I was on a plane flying across the Mediterranean. I had printed out all of the files and photographs from my computer the night before, and I flicked through them now as we sailed above the clouds. I also had a sheaf of newspapers that I'd picked up at Heathrow. Events at the archaeology department had made it to the inside pages of most of the papers. Nordqvist's body had been found, as had those of the mercenaries, and what had aroused even more curiosity was the fact that Dr. Nikolajev, Nordqvist's boss, was now missing. The police seemed to have decided that Nordqvist was just an innocent victim, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, I thought; he didn't have a gun when he was found because I'd taken it from him. No one had any clear idea of a motive for the raid, or who had slaughtered the armed men, but some suspected that it may be linked to some strange Turkish artefacts that were now missing from the department. Professor Caffrey was quoted in one or two of the articles confirming that a particularly interesting item had been taken from his office. The police were currently approaching people who had seen Nikolajev in the last few days. I felt a twinge of anxiety, knowing I had probably been seen at the banquet with him, and hoped that if the police paid a visit to Croft Manor it would be after the bullet-riddled hallway had been redecorated. 

We landed in Istanbul shortly before four in the afternoon, and three hours later I was on a smaller plane to Kayseri in Cappadocia. I would stay in Kayseri for the night, and in the morning take a rented car to the town of Nevsehir some twenty miles north of the Derinkuyu site. The second flight was thankfully only a short hour and a half, and it felt good to be on my feet again and breathe in fresh air as I walked down the steps from the plane. I generally don't like travelling unless I'm in the driving seat. The sunset was stunning as I disembarked, and by the time I picked up my luggage and got in a taxi there was still an amber glaze across the horizon. 

Kayseri was beautiful, the windows of the old buildings shining with freshly lit lamps as we drove along the narrow streets to my hotel. I paid the taxi driver, and carried my case into the small reception. The man who checked me in and gave me my key was the owner of the hotel, and very friendly. It was a long shot, but I asked him if an American man had checked into the hotel in the last day or so. He shook his head. I said goodnight and went up to my room. The hotel was quite modest, and my room small, but still charming. I had hoped to go for a walk around the pretty town before bed, but as soon as I sat down on the bed the prospect of sleep became far more tempting. I was surprisingly tired after the day's traveling, and so I turned in for the night. 

* * *

It was a shame not to have time to explore Kayseri, but my priority was to get to Nevsehir and then to the underground cities. After a large breakfast - I was ravenous - I set off to hire a car, and was on my way. 

The scenery of Cappadocia was breathtaking. The blue sky was vast above me, and prehistoric volcanic activity had created impossible landscapes of rock all around. In one valley, rocks jutted from the ground in extraordinary pointed formations which the locals called 'fairy chimneys'.  In other areas the hillsides looked more like crumpled silk, deeply scored but also smoothed by millennia of wind and rain. Several times on the journey I was unable to resist pulling over to have a look around, so I didn't reach Nevsehir until the afternoon.  

The town was arranged around a sloping hillside, and I found a room in a hotel at the top of the town with a gorgeous view from the balcony. After dumping my case in the room, I set off around Nevsehir on foot to see if I could find Kurtis in any of the hotels or inns. After two hours in the hot sun I'd had no luck, and started to fell fed up. I wished I didn't care so much where he was. It would be far more useful to me to drive down to Derinkuyu and scout around the archaeological site than to waste valuable time looking for a man who only made my life more complicated. I looked up at the sky. There should still be a few hours of daylight left. I trekked back to the hotel and picked up my backpack and local maps, then as an afterthought strapped on my holsters. I didn't want to take any chances if there were enemies at the site. Back outside, I climbed into the open-top jeep and set off along the road to Derinkuyu. 

After about half an hour I passed through Derinkuyu town, and then headed towards the site of the underground settlement. I parked the jeep about half a mile away, and continued on foot. There was a tourist entrance to the caverns, but I steered clear of it. The public could only visit a very limited area of the city, and that wasn't the section I was interested in. A cluster of large tents and trailers was set up some distance away from the tourist centre, and I could make out a number of figures moving around between the tents. Nikolajev may not be around any more, but someone was certainly still investigating the site. I approached cautiously, and crept through undergrowth until I was behind one of the white tents. I could hear voices inside, and although I couldn't hear much, the language didn't sound like Turkish. I crept further along the edge of the tent, and peered around the corner. At the centre of the camp were several men and women standing by a smaller, makeshift tent covered in green tarpaulin. Perhaps the entrance to the underground site was inside. I noticed with some trepidation that some of the men around the tent were armed with machine guns; not your typical digging equipment. Could they be part of the same private army that we had encountered at the archaeology department in London? As I watched, a flap in the tarpaulin was pulled aside and a man emerged into the sunlight. I gasped and pulled my head back behind the tent. 

"Nikolajev," I whispered. Nordqvist had told me he was dead. True, the assistant hadn't been the most trustworthy of people, but he'd seemed certain of that fact. I was confused. Could I trust Nikolajev or not? If Nordqvist had turned out to be his enemy, maybe he and I were still on the same side. Maybe the armed men were for protection against whoever Nordqvist had been working with. But I didn't want to take any chances. I had a gut feeling that things weren't quite right at this camp. So how was I going to get past all these people to have a look around for myself? I found myself wishing that I knew where Kurtis was, wishing he was here so we could come up with some kind of a plan together. This annoyed me somewhat. When did I start needing anyone else around? I shook my head. There was no use letting my pride get in the way; we did work well together, and I may not have made it through the Strahov if it hadn't been for him. Plus that intriguing gold medallion was still in his possession. 

I crept away from the camp again, and made my way back to the car. As I drove back towards Derinkuyu town my stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Evening was approaching now and the sky was starting to turn gold. I spotted a lovely looking restaurant in the town as I drove through, and decided that I may as well stop and eat here instead of waiting until I got back to Nevsehir. 

I ordered a huge lamb kebab, which I washed down with a bottle of cold beer. The food was delicious. I was just thinking about how I _had_ to spend more time in Turkey, when I was distracted by a scrap of conversation at the end of the room. I speak very little Turkish, but I had just heard the word _Amerikalý_. American. I looked around to see the waiter chatting to the barman. I gulped down the rest of my beer and walked over to them. The barman wandered off into the back room.

The waiter looked up and addressed me in English. "Your food was okay?" I smiled. 

"Delicious, thankyou. I'd like to pay the bill now, please." I took out my wallet and pulled out a few notes. While the waiter was working out my bill, I said casually, "I'm looking for someone around here. An American man, tall, dark hair, about thirty? I don't suppose you've seen anyone like that, have you?" 

He turned and flashed me a grin. "No, no, you don't want American man. Turkish men, much better." He looked me over slowly, then stopped suddenly as he saw the pistols strapped against my thighs. I smiled.

"Believe me, I really do want to find this person. I overheard you talking about an American a moment ago. Now, can you help me or not?" I ran a forefinger over the barrel of my left pistol. 

The waiter's expression had changed. The poor boy looked quite nervous. "Okay, I think so. Maybe. A man was in here last night, American, like you say. Left a big tip. That's why I remember him. And he had a gun, like you," he added quietly. 

"Do you have any idea where he's staying?" I asked. He shook his head. 

"No. Maybe in Derinkuyu. But not many hotels here." 

I smiled at him warmly, and handed him another couple of notes. "Thankyou," I said. "Give my compliments to the chef."

Outside I got back into the jeep and set off up the street. Could Kurtis be staying right here in Derinkuyu? I called in at the few hotels and guesthouses I passed, and asked after Kurtis, but no one seemed to have any idea. The last place I called at was an inn on the outskirts of the town, where a rather dingy little row of rooms were set alongside a courtyard behind the bar. I had just been told once again that there were no American visitors, and was heading back to the car when I spotted something in the shadows. A motorcycle was leaning against the wall of the inn by the courtyard. It was the same model that Kurtis had been riding in Paris the first time I saw him, although this one had Turkish number plates. It wasn't much of a lead, but I decided to go back into the inn and ask if anyone knew whose bike it was. As I approached the bar, the woman I had spoken to a minute earlier was busy talking on the phone. It sounded as if she was speaking English. When she looked up and saw me, she broke off and quickly slammed down the phone. 

"Can I help?" she asked, trying to seem calm. I leaned forward over the bar. 

"There's a bike outside," I said. "Do you know who it belongs to?" The bar was practically empty.

She shook her head, too abruptly, and spoke. "No. I told you, we don't have any guests."

My eyes narrowed. "No you didn't. You told me you didn't have any _American_ guests." She looked worried.

"Yes, that's what I mean to say."

I sighed. "Okay", I said, removing one of my pistols and laying it on casually on the bar, my hand still holding it loosely. I hated to be so blunt, but I was getting impatient. "Which room is he in?"

"No," she said again. "I don't know who you mean." She was starting to look panicked. I held up my other hand to calm her. 

"Please. Look, it's fine. He's a friend of mine. Nothing's going to happen to you. I promise." 

She paused, but knew she couldn't keep up the pretence. "Room four," she whispered finally. 

I smiled as kindly as I could. "Thankyou." 

I knocked on the door of room four and waited. There was no sound from within. I knocked again, louder and for longer, and thought I heard footsteps inside. But still no reply. I knocked for a third and final time, and was about to turn away and have a look through the window when I heard a voice from behind the door. 

"Who is it?" My heart leapt. It was Kurtis. His voice sounded oddly cautious. I put my face close to the door. 

"Kurtis, it's Lara," I replied, hoping that wouldn't put him off. We hadn't parted on the best terms. No reply, but after a moment the sound of a key being turned and bolts being drawn back. I waited for the door to open, and tried to compose myself. 

After several seconds the door hadn't opened, so I called again. "Kurtis? Are you there?"

"Come in," came the reply. "Slowly." He sounded further away. And what was that tone in his voice? Warning? Feeling confused and uneasy, I reached for the door handle and went inside. 

The room was dark. In the middle of the room there was a small folding table with a laptop computer set up on its surface, and a mess of papers and drawings. The dim computer screen was the only source of light in the room. A wooden chair stood by the table. A curtain was drawn across the window, and the fading daylight from the open doorway made little impression on the dark. I closed the door behind me and scanned around the room. I could just about make out the end of a small bed beyond the makeshift desk, and a door led off over to my right, to a bathroom I guessed. I couldn't see much else in the gloom, including Kurtis. 

Suddenly there was a flash of orange light and a rush of movement. Kurtis' Chirugai flew out of the shadows towards me, stopping inches from my face and hovering dangerously close. I let out a yell of surprise, and looked towards the back of the room. In the new light from the weapon I could make out Kurtis' figure as he stepped forward slightly. As if the Chirugai hadn't made enough of an impression, his Boran X was pointed straight at my head. 

"Kurtis? What the hell is going on?" 

"Stay where you are," he said, voice full of cold menace, "Or I'll take your goddamn head off."

* * *

:o Cliffhanger! Oooooh bad Ms. Croft! Hehe. So, what do you think? Good? Bad? Well, hopefully I won't be too long with the next chapter, I have some of it written already. And it's weekend so I can get stuck in :)


	12. Facing Off

:o Hello again, sorry this chapter took me so long, I had a crazy few days. Plus I think it's my longest chapter yet. Anyway I hope it's worth the wait, there's lots of talk but it should answer the questions from the last chapter. 

* * *

Chapter 12: Facing Off

The gun didn't waver a fraction of an inch. The eyes fixed on me from behind it held no trace of warmth. 

"Take off your holsters and your backpack and throw them on the bed."

I stared at him stupidly. Was this some kind of a joke? His voice suggested otherwise. I noticed that the side of his forehead was badly bruised. 

"What happened to you?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly. He was scaring me. 

He laughed coldly, but didn't answer my question. Instead he gestured threateningly with the Boran X. "Take off your holsters and your backpack. Now."

I didn't have much choice but to comply. I unbuckled my holster belt and slid the bag from my shoulders, then tossed the bundle onto the bed a few feet away from me. I put my hands in the air, empty palms facing towards him. I looked sideways at the spinning Chirugai, and to my relief it edged an inch further away from my head.

"Now will you please tell me what this is all about?"

Keeping the gun trained on me, he moved over to the bed and tipped out the contents of my backpack. He picked up my passport and flicked it open one-handed. After glancing over this and my other possessions, he seemed to relax ever so slightly. When he returned his attention to me, I spoke again. 

"Kurtis, don't you know who I am?"

He gave me an unconvincing, humourless smile. "No, I'm afraid I don't. Not for sure. That's why I need you to prove it to me."

"What do you mean?"

"Prove that it's you," he replied. He stood silently for a few long moments, deliberating over his next question. "What was the last thing you said to me before I left England?"

I swallowed. I hadn't really wanted to bring that fight up again. "I said I wouldn't sleep with you if you if you were the last man alive. And then you threw me in my pool," I added matter-of-factly.

"And then what?"

"And then – then I went to bed, and got up the next morning to find a letter from you saying that you'd buggered off with the medallion." Given the circumstances, it probably wasn't wise to snap at him, but I really wasn't enjoying being interrogated. He stared at me a minute longer and then lowered his gun. I heard him breathe out a long sigh. The Chirugai swept back towards him and closed around his raised hand. He let it drop onto the bed beside him.

"Okay." He rubbed the side of his face, the side with the nasty bruises. With the threat gone, he looked very tired and troubled. I put my hands down at my sides, but stayed where I was in case he decided to get trigger-happy again. This certainly wasn't the reunion I'd had in mind. 

"So? Are you going to explain what just happened?"

He replaced his gun in the holster close to his ribs, and turned away towards the back of the room. I saw the flash of a match striking as he lit a small oil lantern that stood on a chest of drawers. He faced me again in the gentle light, and ran his hands through his hair. 

"I thought you were Karel."

My mouth fell open. "Karel?" He nodded wearily. "But I – what do you mean? What happened?"

"I had a run-in with him today. At the dig site outside town. He did a bit of a number on me." He pointed to the vivid bruises on his head in case I had somehow missed them.

"Christ. I knew that bastard wouldn't be dead," I muttered. "Tell me what happened." 

Kurtis pointed to the wooden chair by the table in the middle of the room. "Take a seat." I obliged. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I went down there this morning, before the sun came up. They have a camp set up there, and they've opened up a new section of the underground city." 

I nodded. "I saw it, I was there just this afternoon. But how did you get in? There were armed men everywhere."

"They probably have more guards there now, because they know I got past them. But it was still dark when I got there, and I… created a distraction."

"How?"

"By killing a bunch of them."

I grinned despite myself. "Subtle to a fault, aren't you?" He smiled briefly.

"I had the medallion with me. I was trying to find the chamber where Nikolajev found it, see if I could figure out what it had been for, or find some of the paintings he talked about in his notes. It seemed a good place to start." The mention of Nikolajev prompted me to interrupt him.

"I saw him at the camp. Nikolajev. Nordqvist told me he was dead, but he was right there. Do you think he's working with Karel?" 

"Lara, he probably is dead. I doubt it was really Nikolajev you saw." 

I thought about this, and frowned. "Yes, you're probably right. Which means Nordqvist was most likely working for Karel. Carry on. When did you see Karel?"

"I was getting in to the secret chamber in the east church. There are statues around the altar, and you have to position them in a certain way to get the door to open. Anyway, I was in the process of doing just that, and –"

"And what?"

"Then _you_ appeared."

After taking in what he had just said, I shuddered. I'd seen Karel change into other people – including Kurtis – before my eyes, and that had been bad enough. The thought of him walking around looking like me was even more unsettling.

"I know you'd told me that Karel could shape shift," Kurtis went on, "but I didn't realise quite how – _convincing_ it was. Of course I assumed it was you, so I told you what I'd been doing. You asked to see the medallion, so I handed it to you, and then you smiled and proceeded to kick the living shit out of me." He winced at the memory. "Then a couple of soldier boys appeared, and you sort of – flickered. Like Karel couldn't keep up the pretence for too long. I think maybe he's still weak. Relatively speaking, of course," he added, putting a hand to his ribs. I guessed they were bruised too. "Anyway, that's when I realised what was going on." 

I raised my eyebrows. "Are you trying to say you actually thought it was me until that point?" 

"Hey, don't act so surprised. You were really pissed after I threw you in that pool. I thought you were just getting even." He smiled, trying to make light of it, but I could see that he was quite badly shaken by the experience.

"But why –" I paused for a moment, trying to steady my voice a little. "Why didn't he kill you?"

"I'm getting to that. He started changing, from you into what I guess he really looks like. Nephilim. Ugly freaking symbols on his skin. He told his goons to take me down into one of the deeper levels, lock me up. They asked the same as you; why not just kill him? Karel said – I can't remember exactly what he said, I was half conscious and kind of sore. But something along the lines of wanting me for something later. Not something good, I'm guessing. I think he mentioned me being Lux Veritatis." 

"So how did you get away?"

"Karel told one of them to take my Chirugai. He must have thought I was out cold. His mistake. I waited till they were dragging me down the stairs in the dark, and took the Chirugai right out of the guy's hand. Some of his fingers came with it. I finished those two off pretty quick, and Karel was down in front so by the time he knew what was going on I was too far away for him to stop me. Luckily I hadn't broken any bones so I got out of the city okay, and used my gun on everyone who got in the way once I reached the camp. So," he shrugged, "that's it."

"So the medallion's gone then?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so. But I did some drawings, there, in front of you." I leaned forward to look at the papers on the desk. "I took a couple of rubbings from it, so at least we still have all the symbols and the markings from both sides. I haven't had much luck with the symbols yet, but I think they are linked to the writing used by the Lux Veritatis." 

I looked through the pages of notes and drawings. He'd been working hard. "God, Kurtis, I'm sorry," I said.

He looked at me, puzzled. "Sorry for what?" 

I sat back in the chair and looked at the floor. "For being… For letting an argument get in the way. We should have been doing this together." 

"Don't sweat it," he replied. "But that reminds me, how did you find me?"

I recounted my conversation with the waiter in the restaurant, and how I had trawled the hotels and inns looking for him until I'd spotted the motorbike. 

"God, am I really that predictable?" he asked despairingly. "I shoulda hired a different one."

I laughed, and carried on to tell him about the woman in the inn. 

He was suddenly angry. "Fuck! That stupid –" he stood up, fists at his sides, and I thought he was going to storm out there and then. Fortunately he composed himself. "I gave her a lot of money to keep quiet. I told her not to tell anybody, no matter what." 

"Kurtis, don't be so hard on her. She thought I was going to shoot her. The poor woman was terrified. And Karel would have done a lot worse if he'd thought you were here."

"I guess." He sank back onto the bed, propping himself up on one elbow. "So how about you? What did you see at the camp?"

"Not much. There were too many people around. I saw Nikolajev – or Karel – coming out of the dig site. Lots of guards. I don't know how we're going to get back in there."

Kurtis nodded. "It'll be tough. But a lot easier if we go together." He stood up again, and paced over to the desk. "I could do with a beer. You want one?"

"No, I had one with dinner, and I still have to drive back."

"Where are you staying?"

"In Nevsehir. I hope the headlights on my car work," I said, looking towards the window. "I bet it's almost dark by now."

"Well, why don't you stay here tonight? I can show you the work I've been doing, and we can have an early start tomorrow. Once we decide what to do next, that is."

"Oh, Kurtis, I couldn't. Plus –" I looked around me. "There's no room."

"Hey, I don't mind sleeping on the floor. It'll be fine." I glanced at the cold tiles dubiously. "Unless of course you're embarrassed to share a room with a guy. Don't worry, I promise I won't peek at anything I'm not supposed to," he added dryly. 

I smiled. "Oh, I'm not embarrassed. You have seen me running around my house in not much more than my knickers, after all." 

Kurtis smiled, then started to laugh. 

"What?" I asked. He was shaking with laughter. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry. It's just – _knickers_. It's such a great word." He laughed again. His smile was so gorgeous, it made me smile too. I couldn't help laughing with him. It was a sweet relief to see some of his tension evaporate. 

"So," he said, once he had calmed down. "What do you say?" 

I looked back at his blue eyes, still shining with amusement. It would probably be unbearably distracting to share such a small, crampt room with him, but I had to admit it made sense. I agreed. 

"But _I'll_ sleep on the floor," I finished. 

"No, no, I like the floor," he replied. "Don't look at me like that, I do. If you learn one thing in the Foreign Legion, it's to like sleeping on floors. Take the bed. Please." 

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine. If it keeps you quiet."

"Good. Now, do you want that beer?"

"I'd love one. But please don't traumatise that poor woman behind the bar," I added as he left. 

He returned a few minutes later with a few bottles of beer, which we drank as we looked over the various notes and files in the lamplight. Kurtis sat on the bed, smoking a cigarette, while I sat at the laptop and reviewed the files he'd copied from my computer. I looked up to find him staring at me intently. 

"What is it?" I asked uncomfortably.

"It's just… Karel. God, it's like he really _was_ you. The voice, and everything."

"Scary, isn't it?" I paused. "At the Strahov, after he killed Eckhardt, he transformed into you. He said he'd been helping me out all along. He almost convinced me that you'd never existed." 

Kurtis smiled faintly as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke. "No such luck." I looked away awkwardly.

"Anyway, I just had an idea," he went on. "Since we both know what a damned convincing impersonator Karel can be, we need a way of being sure we're really talking to each other when we _think_ we are. Right?" 

I nodded. "Any suggestions?"

"We should have a password. Or better, a password each. Then if we're separated for any length of time we can check back with each other and know it's safe."

"Good idea," I said. "So what's my password going to be? Nothing obscene, I hope." 

He got up and took a pencil and scrap of paper from the desk. 

"Is it really necessary to write it down? I doubt Karel is eavesdropping at this very moment." 

He shrugged. "Call me paranoid." After thinking for a minute he wrote something down and scrunched up the paper. "Your turn," he said.

I tore the corner from a page of notes and poised a pen over its surface. I smiled and scribbled the word '_knickers'_, then folded the paper and tossed it at Kurtis. He stood up and passed his to me. I unfolded it and felt a smile spread across my lips. My password was 'mermaid.'

"Nice," I said. He was looking at his paper, laughing. 

"Well, I certainly won't forget it," he said, and dropped the paper into an ashtray. He set light to both scraps of paper and watched them blacken and disappear. 

"So, are we safe now?" I teased. "Because I could do with getting some sleep."

He groaned. "Yeah, me too. I've had a pretty weird – and painful - day."

I was about to argue with him once again that he should take the bed, but he pre-empted me. 

"I'm still sleeping on the floor," he said firmly. 

"All right. But at least take the blankets from the bed. I won't need them, I'll sleep in my clothes." I bundled up the blankets and passed them to Kurtis, then perched on the edge of the bed and started to unlace my boots. I glanced over to see Kurtis straighten up from arranging the blankets on the floor. He grabbed hold of the fabric of his shirt and pulled it off over his head in a single movement. He was facing away from me, so I could see the snaking designs of the tattoo on his back. The skin was marked further by dark patches of bruise here and there, and I felt my heart lurch with guilt, knowing he had only faced Karel alone because I had driven him out of my home. My eyes lingered on his skin, and I felt an overwhelming urge to walk over and slide my hands around him, lay kisses on his back and shoulders, turn him around and finish undressing him. I knew he wouldn't stop me. He turned round to drape his shirt on the back of the chair, and I quickly lowered my head, feeling stupid, hoping he hadn't caught me looking. I concentrated very hard on my boots again as I pulled them off and set them neatly by the bed. I had never thought of myself as a coward before, but I did now. 

Kurtis walked past me to blow out the lamp. "Goodnight," he said as darkness fell.

I lay down and curled up on my side. "Goodnight," I replied, closing my eyes. Maybe tomorrow I would be able to decide what to do with all these turbulent feelings.

* * *

:o Hehe sorry I couldn't resist getting him topless at the end there… Anyway please let me know what you think. Next chapter… er… I don't know yet! But I'll get to work on it asap. 


	13. Visions

:o Hello again, I'd better start with an apology for the ridiculous delay in posting this chapter. I've been busy, and writing other stuff, and… just being crap. So…… **SORRY!!!!!!!** The next chapter should be up much sooner because it's already started. 

Anyway, please enjoy, let me know your thoughts :)

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Chapter 13: Visions 

The sound of running water woke me, chasing away the last strange fragments of my dream. I was disoriented for a moment, taking in the unfamiliar dimensions of the room, but then I remembered where I was. I looked around for Kurtis, then realised that he must be in the bathroom next door where the sound of water was coming from. I turned over slowly, and felt the weight of a blanket lying across me. Kurtis must have put it over me while I was asleep. It was a touching thought, although I felt a twinge of regret that I hadn't been the one to wake first. I had hoped to take a peek at him while he slept, and see how he looked when he had his guard down.

I pulled the blanket aside and sat up, then shivered as my bare feet touched the cold tiled floor. My clothes were crumpled and I felt dusty and stale. I wished I had something clean to change into. Maybe I would have time to stop at my room in Nevsehir today and get some fresh clothes. I sighed. By the time we had turned in the night before we still hadn't any clear idea of what our next step should be. Our inability to accurately translate the symbols on the medallion was holding us up. And we didn't want to venture into the enemy camp until we had a clear idea of what we needed to do there. 

The sound of the shower stopped as I got to my feet and stretched. I went over to the window and pushed the curtain aside, letting some morning sunlight into the room. It looked like another fine day. 

The bathroom door opened and I turned to see Kurtis emerge, still rubbing his hair dry with a towel. He was already dressed. 

"Morning," he said when he saw me.

"Good morning," I replied, hoping I didn't look too scruffy after my night's sleep.

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Very well, thanks. Were you okay on the floor?"

"I was fine. Weird dreams, though." He frowned slightly. He went to the window and looked out thoughtfully. 

"I'm not surprised, after the day you had." 

He shook his head. "No, it wasn't about Karel. There was this old guy talking to me, real clear, telling me that I had to go meet him…" He trailed off.

"Mind if I use the bathroom?" I asked. 

"Of course, go ahead," he replied, still staring out of the window. 

I went into the small room and closed the door. I would have liked a shower myself but I was a little unnerved by the fact that there was no lock on the door, and I didn't want to take too long, so I settled for a quick wash. As I was letting the water drain from the sink afterwards, something about my own dreams flashed back into my mind, triggered by what Kurtis had said.

I had heard a pleasant male voice saying my name, distracting me from whatever else I had been dreaming about, and I looked around to see a man standing nearby. He seemed old, but had a youthful spark in his dark eyes. He had dark skin and short grey hair, and wore a neat white suit. 

_Lara_, he had said. _Forgive my intrusion, but I need to speak with you_.

As I recalled more of the dream I felt my eyes widening in surprise. I dried off hurriedly and pulled on my top again, then rushed out of the bathroom.

"Kurtis, what did the man in your dream look like?" I asked breathlessly.

He looked puzzled, but described the man anyway. I shook my head in disbelief as he told me.

"Did he tell you to go to the museum in Nevsehir?" 

Kurtis gaped at me. "Yes. How did you know that?"

"He told me the same thing. I dreamed about him too. He said – oh, I can't remember it all, something about being able to help us."

"God. This is screwed up," Kurtis said, rubbing his face. "Shapeshifters, telepathic visits in the night…"

"What do you think it means?" I asked him. "Do you really think this was someone trying to contact us?"

"Could be," he replied.

I sighed. "This is insane."

Kurtis smiled. "Lara, I can move things with my mind. That's no more insane."

"I suppose you're right. But what should we do?"

"I don't know. I don't know what to trust." We were silent for a few moments. I closed my eyes tight and tried to recall as much as I could about my dream.

"He said he knew it would be hard for us to believe him, but he had to meet with us. He said his name was…"

"Ozan," Kurtis finished for me. 

I looked back at him, eyes wide. "Yes".

"Well, I'm out of other ideas. I suggest we go to Nevsehir and see if we can find anyone called Ozan at the museum." 

I nodded, and we got ready to go. I put on my boots and gathered up my possessions from the floor, packing them back into my bag. While I fastened on my holsters, Kurtis collected up the papers from the table.

"Ready?" I asked. He gave me a quick nod, and we walked out into the daylight. It was warm, with a welcome breeze. 

"Let's take my car," I said, and we headed for the parked jeep. As we climbed in, Kurtis grinned suddenly.

"I almost forgot," he said. "_Knickers."_

I smiled back as I slipped on my sunglasses. "Mermaid," I replied, and started up the engine.

* * *

I pulled over as we arrived in the outskirts of Nevsehir, and rummaged in my backpack for my map of the town. Although I had looked around the day before, I didn't remember seeing the museum, so we would need directions. Or so I thought.

"Lara," Kurtis said, interrupting my perusal of the map. "It's over there."

I looked in the direction of his outstretched finger, and saw a large, modern building on the hillside some distance away. I didn't have to ask him how he knew it was the museum because I already understood. Like him, I recognised it from my dream. I seemed that this man, Ozan, had already given us the directions we needed. We set off again, and a few minutes later were climbing out of the car outside the museum. 

From the main entrance hall we made our way through large, light rooms filled with glass cases. The museum had a fascinating collection of archaeological finds from the region, as well as an extensive ethnographic section. Given the opportunity I could have spent many hours there, but we had more pressing concerns. There were only a handful of visitors at the museum at this early hour, but none of them looked like our mysterious contact. 

"If this guy had to poke around in our brains he could at least have given us a more specific meeting place, or a time," Kurtis said in exasperation after we had been walking around for about fifteen minutes.

As if in reply, we heard brisk footsteps approaching across the shiny wooden floor, and both turned to see the man from our dream hurrying towards us. He was wearing the same white suit, and seemed delighted to see us, a broad smile on his lips. 

"Lara, Kurtis!" he said in a familiar voice, his arms spread as if he were planning to hug us. In perfect unison, Kurtis and I took a wary step backwards, still unsure what we should expect from this stranger. 

"I'm so pleased to see you at last," he continued, and reached out a hand towards me. I held out my own, unable to resist the man's infectious enthusiasm, and he shook it vigourously. "I am Ozan," he added unnecessarily. I couldn't help but smile. He had the same brightness in his eyes that I had noticed in my 'dream', and his animated manner made it difficult to judge how old he was. Ozan shook Kurtis' hand next, just as eagerly as he had mine, despite Kurtis' doubtful expression.

"Forgive me for making you wait so long, I knew you were on your way so I was in the office, making a pot of coffee. Please, shall we go there now? We will be able to talk in private." He nodded and beckoned us to follow him as he headed for the corridor through which we had entered the room. Kurtis and I looked at each other. He raised his eyebrows as if to comment on the bizarre situation. I nodded in silent agreement, and we set off after the odd little man. Hurrying along in his smart white suit he reminded me of the white rabbit in _Alice in Wonderland_.

"Curiouser and curiouser," I muttered.

* * *


	14. Ozan

:o Hey! Told you it wouldn't be such a long wait this time. Thanks for the lovely reviews people!   
  
nora88: Hehe no kissing this time, but maybe soon? You'll just have to wait and see... :D  
  
Numair's Daine: yes I'm English. No I can't imagine Lara saying 'panties' either! And I loved your fight scene (like everything else you write), hmmm what is it that's so appealing about them getting all, er, physical? ;)  
  
Horsecrazy: lol the KTEB has made us both crazy, do you think we could claim compensation? :D Okay, you can put the stick down now...  
  
Anyway here's the next installment, it's pretty long and has lots of talking/explaining so I hope it's not boring.   
  
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Chapter 14: Ozan  
  
We followed Ozan through a door halfway along the corridor, and up a flight of concrete steps to the first floor of the museum. We walked down another passageway lined with offices and storage rooms until Ozan stopped at one of the doors and pulled a bundle of keys from his pocket. He unlocked the office and ushered us inside warmly.  
  
The room was small but full of books, papers and boxes. Drawings and charts covered the walls. There was no desk, but instead a round wooden table stood in the centre of the room, documents piled neatly on its surface. There were three chairs set around the table, and a tray bearing three cups of steaming black coffee.  
  
"What do you do at the museum, Ozan?" I asked.  
  
"I do a lot of their translation work," he replied. "Cappadocia has had a very rich and varied past, as I am sure you are aware. Many different cultures have put down roots here through the ages, and the ancient languages of the region are my speciality, I suppose." I caught Kurtis' eye - if Ozan could translate the symbols on the medallion, he really would be helpful to us. "Please, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable."  
  
I took a seat, and after a moment's hesitation Kurtis did the same.   
  
Ozan handed us a cup each, and then sat down opposite us. He folded his hands in front of him on the table and sat looking at us, beaming.   
  
"So," Kurtis said. "I guess you're psychic, then." It seemed as good a place as any to start.  
  
"Indeed," Ozan replied, still smiling. "I apologise, you must be wondering who on earth is this strange little man! I will try to explain. I hope I did not cause either of you any distress by intruding on your sleep this morning. But I thought it would be a bad idea to turn up in person, particularly when you are both concerned about this Karel, the Nephilim. I do so want for you to be able to trust me."  
  
"You know about the Nephilim?" Kurtis asked.  
  
Ozan nodded. "Yes. I have much to tell you about them. But first I should explain who I am, and how much we have in common, Kurtis."  
  
"Me and you?" Kurtis replied, sounding sceptical.  
  
I blew cool air onto my drink before taking a sip. Black, with one sugar. Ozan even knew how I took my coffee.  
  
"Yes. You have psychic powers which you inherited from your ancestors, Kurtis. So did I. They are not the same as yours, I cannot move objects with my mind, but I have the ability to communicate telepathically. I can also sense things from people; moods, thoughts and such. My ancestors developed their telepathic powers partly so that they could store their memories and secrets across generations. It is hard to explain, but we have memory... in our blood. I have my father's memories, my father had the memories of my grandfather; I have in my head the memory of many hundreds of generations. That is why I can read the ancient languages. That is why I will be able to help you."  
  
Earlier, Kurtis had folded up a wad of his notes and drawings and put them in one of the pockets of his pants. He took them out now, and smoothed them out on the table. "I don't know if you'll be able to read this. It's the writing from a medallion which was found in Derinkuyu, but -" He frowned, and passed the papers over to Ozan. "But I'm sure the symbols are linked to the Lux Veritatis, the Order I was raised in, and they had roots in Western Europe, not Turkey."  
  
Ozan nodded politely as Kurtis spoke. "Of course, I understand your confusion. But the history of the Lux Veritatis in fact began in Turkey, in the very city where that medallion was found."  
  
"In Derinkuyu?" I asked in surprise.   
  
"Yes." He looked thoughtful. "It is rather a long story. Is there anything you need before I begin? Something to eat perhaps?"  
  
We told him that no, we were fine, and I smiled. I found myself liking Ozan immensely, even though we had only just met. He was clearly in possession of information that would be useful - if not vital - to us, and yet he still wanted to make sure he was being a good host.  
  
"Very well," he continued in his melodic voice. "In the twelfth century, a legion of the Knights Templar passed through Anatolia on their return from a bloody Crusade in Syria. They were injured, weary, hungry. They found in the heart of Cappadocia a place to shelter, deep beneath the ground in our ancient city of Derinkuyu. There they were cared for by Christian dwellers, people whose ancestors had fled from Arab invasions in the seventh and eighth centuries. Living amongst these men and women were an order of monks, who told the Knights some very interesting stories. Now the Knights believed that these monks had arrived with the Christians, and indeed many of the younger Christian settlers assumed the same. But they had been there far longer. They lived in those sunless caverns not because they were fleeing Arabs or recovering from battle, but because they were guarding something. Something ancient and terrible.  
  
"At this point I have to take you back even further, to the time of the Hittites. Over a thousand years before Christ was born, the Hittites created many of the underground chambers that are still there today, as they attempted to protect themselves from Phrygian invasion. But they were not the first who had been besieged beneath the rock and earth. The Hittites knew of great caverns hidden beneath the ground, which had been there since before any man could remember. Huge caverns that could only be entered through a single, narrow passage that led down into the earth. No one knew how these caves had come to be, but the Hittites believed themselves very fortunate to know of the catacombs as they spread their burrow of rooms and halls from this starting point.   
  
"After some time the Hittites vanished from Derinkuyu. No one knows why, but it seems that some of them fled and attempted to fill in some of the tunnels and passageways of the city behind them on their way out. Other peoples settled in the city in the centuries that followed, but none for very long until my ancestors took root there. This was in the infancy of Christianity, after Saint Paul had passed through Anatolia spreading the word of Christ. The order that settled in the caves in this time did not succumb to the same fate as the previous inhabitants. Rather, they began to convert the city, creating churches in the great halls and filling them with statues and paintings. They seemed to be drawing their faith down into the ground, filling the city with it. This is why it became such a welcome place for the later Christian refugees to come to, and the Knights on their return from the Crusades.   
  
"So this is all very interesting, I'm sure you are thinking, but what does it have to do with me? With you? With this strange creature Karel. Well, my ancestors came upon the city long after the Hittites did, but there were still myths about that place and what had happened there. These stories had a profound effect on my ancestors, convincing them that they should settle in the city and bring God's light into it to protect it from the evil below.  
  
"In the time of the earliest civilizations, it is believed that some of the angels left heaven and came down to walk upon the earth. They wished to see what God had made, and understand why he had done so. It is possible they spent many years amongst the living; human lifetimes even. But they were affected enough, or made curious enough, by their proximity to humans to wish to mate with them, and that is how the Nephilim came to be. The Nephilim were aberrations, able to live with neither angel nor man, wishing only to devour. God punished the angels responsible for creating the Nephilim by sending them into Hell, and He sent down His angels of death to scour the Nephilim from the Earth altogether. Knowing that death was coming for them, the Nephilim fled to seek refuge. They came to this region and burrowed deep into the volcanic rock, carving out a vast, deep chamber for themselves with their bare hands. Most of the tunnels were closed up behind them in a series of earthquakes, and there the Nephilim stayed for thousands of years. Men are beings of earth, but angels are beings of light, and they were unable to feel the presence of the Nephilim hiding beneath the ground. Possibly the Nephilim were so weak from their exertions that they were even harder to detect, and too weak to resurface, because they stayed there until this very day. They did not try to dig their way out, perhaps because they were still too weak, perhaps because they were too afraid. But their presence could be felt in the underground city, as if they haunted it, and that is what drove out the Hittites and other settlers."   
  
Ozan paused here, and drank some of his coffee. I glanced at sideways at Kurtis and saw that he, like me, seemed to be itching to ask questions. With great effort we held back, trusting that Ozan would tell us all he needed to.   
  
"So," he went on a moment later. "Knowledge of what happened all those thousands of years ago was passed on through the ages by the people living in this region. As time went by, of course, many people stopped believing in it, thinking it was just an old myth or folk tale. But then, not so very long before the arrival of Christianity, something happened to change that."  
  
"What?" I asked, unable to rein in my curiosity. Ozan didn't seem to mind the interruption at all, though, and he smiled warmly at me before continuing.  
  
"One of the Nephilim did escape," he said, a grave expression now clouding his pleasant features. "He called himself Pharys, and he was truly a terrifying creature. He alone had the will to drag himself out into the world, and his plan was to find a way of releasing all his siblings so they could claim the world for themselves. Over the years spent underground the Nephilim had become insubstantial, but Pharys used this to his advantage. Once he had gained some strength he found he was able to reshape his body and could take on a human appearance."  
  
He looked up at Kurtis suddenly. I turned to see Kurtis leaning forwards in his chair, a look of realisation on his face.   
  
"I know what you are thinking, Kurtis. No, Pharys and Karel are not one and the same," Ozan said, answering Kurtis' unspoken question. "But they are closely linked. Because of his changing appearance, Pharys spent many years living undetected, and in that time he mated with a human female. But he became careless with his disguise, and eventually he was visited by one of God's angels. He was destroyed, but the angel feared that more of the Nephilim may emerge. And so she gathered some of the holy men from the area and gave them a gift. A language that would act as some kind of a weapon against the Nephilim if they should be found. This gift also gave the holy men heightened mental powers, which they passed on to their children along with the understanding of the language. My ancestors were the early Christians initiated by those who knew the sacred language. They formed a monastic order within the city at Derinkuyu, and used the language in paintings and sculptures to keep the Nephilim locked inside. When they met the Knights Templar in the eleven-hundreds, they saw kindred spirits in them and taught them the language. They had received word from other travelling Christians that Pharys' offspring had survived, and that he was in Western Europe planning some kind of resurrection of the Nephilim race. They wanted to send these Knights back to the West with the sacred language, in the hope that the half-Nephilim and his followers could be stopped. This half-Nephilim, of course, is the creature you both know as Karel."  
  
"My God," Kurtis said, shaking his head slowly. "I was always told that the Lux Veritatis was formed to fight the Cabal. But it was always about the Nephilim."  
  
Ozan nodded. "Unfortunately, the Lux Veritatis did not share the clarity of memory that my people had. Perhaps their original purpose was lost over the years. And their instinct was to fight, while ours was to protect. But to begin with, the two Orders were very much the same. The one to which I belong is named after the language given to man by the angel. The Light of Truth."  
  
"Lux Veritatis..." I whispered.   
  
"Our numbers dwindled over the years, and I myself have no sons or daughters. All the other remaining members were murdered, most likely by the same Cabal who killed your father, Kurtis. I am very sorry." He paused. Kurtis nodded stiffly. "So now, all the memories of the Light of Truth rest with me. And as I cannot pass the secrets on through blood then I shall pass them on to you through word. There is no blood connection between you and I, friend, but a bond was forged between our ancestors nevertheless."  
  
Ozan sat back in his chair, looking rather tired. I imagined he wasn't used to speaking for such a long time. He sighed. "I am sorry that I do not have better news for you," he said, looking at our stunned expressions. "Karel is planning something that could be truly catastrophic."  
  
I reached across the table and took his hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. "We were lucky you turned up, Ozan. I think we might have a chance after all." He smiled back at me, seeming genuinely moved.  
  
"And I am very fortunate to have met you both. Of course, I will get to work right away translating these engravings for you. There were other medallions too, three of them. I think that there is a replica of one of the others in a museum near Aksaray. I will speak with them, try to get a picture of that one too."  
  
"That would be wonderful," I said. "Is there anything we can do in the meantime?"  
  
Ozan hesitated for a moment before replying. "Not really," he said. "I don't believe Karel is ready to awaken the remaining Nephilim for a few more days, so we still have some time. I must work on these translations, and on finding out more about Karel's camp and the tunnels they are using."  
  
"How will you do that?" Kurtis asked.  
  
Ozan tapped the side of his head in response. "I will need to be a lot closer to the site, but when I am... I will be able to probe the minds of some of his workers, find out what they know and what they are planning. The next part, getting into the city and stopping Karel, will rest with the two of you, although I hate to say it. It will not be easy. His strength is growing..." He looked troubled.  
  
"Can you pick up thoughts from Karel?" I asked, puzzled.  
  
"Not exactly. But he is Nephilim, and because I have the Light of Truth I am able to sense him. And his energy is getting stronger."  
  
"I promise you, if you can get us in there, we'll take care of Karel," Kurtis said firmly. I wished I felt as confident.  
  
Ozan nodded. "I have a lot of faith in you, my friends. I am sure that together we will succeed. But for now, you may as well rest and enjoy your stay for a little while. Nevsehir has some excellent restaurants." He beamed. "One more thing. I have arranged some accommodation in Derinkuyu. I will need to stay there in order to find anything out from the camp. Please, there is enough room, will you be my guests? It will be safer for you than any hotel or inn."  
  
Kurtis and I exchanged glances, both taken aback at the invitation. We had known this man for less than an hour, and reason told us that we should be wary; but something else was telling us we should accept his help, and that we would not succeed without it. Kurtis gave me an almost imperceptible nod.  
  
"Thankyou, Ozan," I said. "We would be glad to stay with you."  
  
"Wonderful," he replied, sounding relieved. He took a sheet of paper and a pen and started jotting something down. "I will give you directions and the keys to the house so you can go there whenever you wish. I will join you there as soon as possible, once I have finished my work here."   
  
He got to his feet and unfastened a key from the bunch in his pocket. He passed the key and the sheet of paper to Kurtis. At the door to his office Ozan shook our hands again enthusiastically and promised to do his best to help us. He waved to us as we made our way back down the corridor.  
  
Once we had descended the stairs and found our way back to the main hall of the museum, Kurtis stopped and looked at me.   
  
"Are we crazy?" he said uncomfortably. "We just met a guy who made a guest appearance in our dreams. For all we know could pop our heads open with a single thought, and we've just agreed to spend the night in his house. Doesn't that strike you as kind of weird?"  
  
I smiled and shrugged. "No more weird than a race of human and angel hybrids living under the ground for millennia, or a language that can be used as a weapon against them, or the fact that you descended from the Knights Templar, or-"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Okay, I get the point" he butted in, and followed me out to the car.  
  
* * *  
  
Sooo... any thoughts? Hope it wasn't too talky. The next chapter will be a little more fun... I'll leave you to think about what I mean by that ;) 


	15. R&R

:o Uh-oh. Time to face the wrath of the pokey-stick :( It's been a little while since my last update *coughthreemonthscough* but I didn't abandon my fic, I've just had a busy busy time and never seemed to have the chance to write and update. So. really sorry. Anyhoo, here at last is chapter 15, I hope it doesn't disappoint.  
  
* * *  
  
Chapter 15: R&R  
  
Some hours later, I was facing Kurtis at a table on the terrace of a beautiful little restaurant in Derinkuyu. The sky was turning slowly golden behind me, casting fading sunlight onto Kurtis' face as he perused the menu. Our stomachs were both rumbling.  
  
It had been an oddly idle day for me. That morning, Ozan had told us that we basically had the rest of the day to ourselves, so we had headed back into the centre of Nevsehir after our peculiar encounter at the museum.  
  
I told Kurtis that I wanted to pick up my things from the hotel in Nevsehir that I'd checked into the day before, and while I was at it, get showered and changed. He managed to convince me to lend him the jeep for a couple of hours, as he wanted to explore the scenery around the town. After promising to pick me up at four, he had screeched away from the hotel car park at a far from leisurely speed, leaving me alone with my thoughts.  
  
Up in my room, alone again, I felt weighed down by confusion. This business with Ozan had been so unexpected and so bizarre. How could we be sure we could really trust him? I wanted to; I liked him very much and he seemed truly genuine. But we had already seen that he had strong telepathic powers, and for all we knew he could have us under some kind of mental control. What if he was working with Karel, and was trying to divert us from the rituals going on deep underground? I lay back on the bed, frustrated that I still had doubts and that I now had to wait around before anything else could happen. I hated waiting, and wished I had something useful to do to take my mind off things.  
  
I hadn't eaten yet, so I ordered a chicken salad and a pot of coffee from room service, and watched the television in the corner while I ate. The hotel only received one English-language channel, and it was showing an American football match, but I watched it anyway as a distraction. Afterwards I took a long cool shower and washed my hair, then wrapped myself in a fluffy white bathrobe and went out onto the balcony. The warm breeze felt lovely as it stirred my damp hair. I wondered where Kurtis was, and pictured him roaming around the rich Cappadocian landscape in my jeep. Hopefully it would help him shake off his own doubts and worries and, both refreshed, we could talk things through properly later. I had felt some of my own tension easing away as I showered, draining away with the dirt of the last two days, and I felt a lot better for it. But one frustration remained, one that refused to shift. Despite the many crazy, life- threatening things I had to worry about, I still couldn't stop thinking about Kurtis. I closed my eyes, listening to the now-familiar voices bickering away in my head. One was cold and aloof, assuring me that I had been right to keep my distance, that I had had nothing but trouble with men before, and this would all work out much better if I could keep my emotions in check. The other wasn't as easy to listen to, and kept cursing me for every time I had passed up a chance to get closer to Kurtis. It reminded me bluntly how Kurtis had confronted me about the very same thing back in England, and then left because of my reluctance to admit my feelings. You could have made it up to him last night if you'd had the guts, it said. You were sharing a bedroom, for Christ's sake. And if not then, you could have invited him up here now, given him some weak excuse if you'd needed to, and just seen what happened when the door closed behind you.  
  
I sat there on the balcony until my hair was almost dry, lost in thought. My eyes wandered over the town below me and the hills beyond, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. Finally I shook myself back to reality and went into the bedroom to pack.  
  
At four, Kurtis met me in the bar downstairs as promised, looking dusty, windswept and more sexy than he had any right to be. We headed back to Derinkuyu, following Ozan's directions to his hideaway. The house stood amongst a grove of cypress trees at the end of a narrow track, a mile or so outside the town. Inside it was small and cosy, with stone floors, narrow windows, and brightly patterned hangings on the walls. Kurtis headed for the shower, leaving me to look around. There were only two bedrooms, and I wondered what sleeping arrangements Ozan had had in mind. I decided that when our host arrived I would have to insist on taking the living room floor. I didn't want Kurtis to have to rough it for the second night in a row, and I couldn't make our generous new friend sleep on stone.  
  
Kurtis emerged from the bathroom a short while later, clean but still irresistibly scruffy. We had no idea when to expect Ozan, and after waiting around for half an hour with nothing to do, we were both fed up and getting on each other's nerves. I suggested that we go into town and have some dinner. He agreed, and stopped on the way out to leave a note for Ozan should he turn up in our absence.  
  
"Although he probably knows what we're doing before we've even decided," he said with a smile. I peered over his shoulder at the scrawled message, and grinned.  
  
"Yes. And it's probably just as well he's psychic, with handwriting like that."  
  
Kurtis scowled at me unconvincingly, and we went out to the car.  
  
* * *  
  
We found a gorgeous restaurant at the edge of town and ordered plenty of food, and a bottle of wine. I wasn't sure we should have a drink, aware that we would probably be having a long and serious discussion with Ozan later, back at the house. But Kurtis twisted my arm, pointing out that this may be our last chance to relax and enjoy ourselves.  
  
When we had finished eating, Kurtis smoked a cigarette and leaned back in his chair, gazing out at the view from the terrace. I watched his face in the golden light. Something that had been nagging at me for a few days resurfaced.  
  
"Can I ask you something?"  
  
He looked at me with interest. "Sure."  
  
"Why were you so awful to me that evening after the banquet? When you accused me of flirting with everyone."  
  
He winced. "I was pretty shitty, wasn't I? Yeah. I was jetlagged, I was tired. I know that's no excuse. But when I saw you." He paused for a few long moments, then stubbed out his cigarette in the glass ashtray before continuing. "The times I'd seen you before, you were like you are now. Guns, boots, dirt, ready for action." I smiled. "I could relate to that much easier. Then at the banquet, there's this beautiful, elegant creature who knows exactly how to talk to people, how to walk, how to laugh, and I guess it just threw me." He was looking at me almost wistfully. "You were charming everyone, and I felt like some hobo who'd just walked into a palace."  
  
I blushed at the way he described me. "I seem to recall the waitress was quite charmed by you," I said.  
  
He grinned. "You remembered that, huh?" I shrugged, affecting disinterest. "Well anyway, I know it's a little late, but I'm sorry I was such an ass," he went on. "And I admit that I probably did scare Nikolajev away. I guess I was feeling resentful that he had so much of your attention."  
  
I prayed that I wasn't blushing again. Kurtis had just admitted that he'd been jealous. I only had eyes for one man in that room, I wanted to say, but the words froze in my throat. I think he understood the sentiment, though, as we looked at each other through the fading sunlight. He reached for another cigarette and put it to his lips.  
  
"Anything else you want to apologise for while you're feeling so courteous?" I asked.  
  
He peered at me shrewdly over the top of the hand that held his lighter. He sparked it to life, and took a deep drag of smoke. "Do you have anything particular in mind?"  
  
"Polluting the air with those repulsive things, for a start. Or you could begin with the rather undignified soaking you gave me in my own swimming pool."  
  
He leaned back in his chair, and folded one arm across his chest. He poked his cigarette at me with his other hand. "You deserved that," he replied.  
  
I widened my eyes in surprise. "How exactly did you figure that out?" I frowned. "No, don't tell me. Because I dented your overgrown ego, no doubt."  
  
Kurtis breathed a stream of smoke slowly and purposefully across the table and into my face. "You know, Lara, you have a few ego issues yourself. So I dented yours a little, too. You'll live."  
  
I looked back at him, not flinching despite the vile cloud. I was pondering my next comment as carefully as a chess grand master. I recalled the shame I had felt after reading his letter and realising that my pride had driven him away. We both had egos, that much was true. If I responded with another attack, he would know it was just my pride talking. But I still wasn't ready to lay my thoughts bare for him to scrutinise.  
  
Before I could make up my mind how to reply, he spoke again.  
  
"So, was it true?" he asked mischievously.  
  
"Was what true?"  
  
"That you wouldn't sleep with me if I was the last man alive."  
  
"My God, to think that you had the nerve to call me a flirt," I scolded.  
  
"Hey, I'm not a flirt," he replied. "I was talking purely hypothetically."  
  
"And I stand by my former statement," I said, diplomatically.  
  
"Hmm. And why's that, exactly?"  
  
I shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't like smokers." He grinned at this comment, and I couldn't help but smile too.  
  
"Well, if I was the last man alive, then there'd be no one left to sell me cigarettes."  
  
"Fair point. But if I had to choose between extinction, and rebuilding the human race from little Kurtis Trents, I think I'd pick extinction." I was playing it cool, trying to cover up how flustered the conversation was making me.  
  
"You are a cold, cold woman, Croft," he said in amusement. "What if it was purely for pleasure, and not for procreation?"  
  
I tried to hold his gaze but it was difficult with the images he was conjuring up in my mind. Eventually I held up a hand. "Okay, stop it," I said, trying to hold back a smile. "I'm not sure I like where this is going."  
  
"No problem," he replied casually, grinding out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Purely hypothetical."  
  
"Have you always been so shameless?"  
  
"I don't know what you mean."  
  
"Maybe it's the overdose of testosterone you were subjected to in the Foreign Legion."  
  
"So you think I'm a womaniser?"  
  
"When given half a chance, yes." I rolled my eyes at his offended expression. "Oh, so I suppose that frisking in the Louvre was entirely necessary?"  
  
"Who knew where you may have had concealed weapons," he teased. "And I seem to recall," he went on slowly, "that you got your own back for that in the Strahov."  
  
I swallowed, remembering how I had let my hands stray over his body when I was disarming him in that crampt little airlock.  
  
He leaned forwards again in his seat, and lowered his eyes. "Lara," he began, and I felt my body tense, warmth rushing to my face, anxious to hear what he would say next. But at that moment we were interrupted by the waiter.  
  
"Excuse me, Mr. Trent?" he said earnestly. Kurtis looked up at him with a flash of annoyance.  
  
"What is it?" he asked sharply.  
  
"A telephone call for you, sir. Downstairs," the waiter replied nervously, and walked briskly away.  
  
Puzzled, Kurtis got to his feet and followed him. Who knew we were here? And more to the point, who the hell had such bad timing?  
  
After a minute or two Kurtis returned. "That was Ozan," he said. I smiled, understanding how our new friend had known where we were, and feeling amused that he was still polite enough to use the less intrusive method of communication. "He's still at the museum, translating the engravings from the two medallions. He thinks he'll be busy for a while longer, so he won't be meeting us at the house until tomorrow morning. He'll be staying in Nevsehir tonight."  
  
I nodded. "Okay. Did he say anything else? Has he found anything out yet?"  
  
"I don't know, I think he wants to wait till he sees us before he tells us anything." He frowned. "He wants to take a look at my tattoo at some point, see if that adds anything to the puzzle. But until then he says we should just get some rest."  
  
I didn't say anything, feeling more concerned by the prospect of being alone with Kurtis again than by the lack of new information. As he followed me out to the car in the fading daylight, I wondered if I would be able to keep my feelings under control for another long night.  
  
* * *  
  
:o Can they keep those feelings in check? I'll tell you in the next chapter :P I hope this was okay and not a total anti-climax after such a long wait. Please let me know your thoughts. Thankyou for all the reviews so far! I'll try to get back to people individually next time. 


	16. Flesh and Blood

*shuffles into room uncomfortably* Ummm... hey guys. Yeah, that story I was writing, well I am still writing it, even though it's been a little while. A big while. A huge while. Anyway I'm really sorry again about the long delay, but here is chapter 16. I hope you enjoy it. And to keep you happy, it has fluff :)  
  
Chapter 16: Flesh and Blood  
  
Ozan's house was in complete darkness when we returned, and only now did we realise that it had no electric lights. Fortunately I had my flashlight, and with its aid we were able to locate matches and enough oil lamps to find our way around. It was surprisingly cool after sunset, and Kurtis decided to light the stove in the living room.  
  
There had been a slightly awkward atmosphere between us since we left the restaurant. The laid-back, flirtatious manner Kurtis had used earlier was gone, replaced with thoughtful silence. Lighting a fire gave him something to focus on other than our conversation over dinner. I sat down in a faded leather chair and started to clean my pistols. Like the fire, it wasn't really necessary, but I wanted to distract myself from the thought of another long night all alone with him. It didn't work, of course. I couldn't help wondering what Kurtis had been about to say when Ozan had called and interrupted him. For a psychic, our new friend had a bloody awful sense of timing.  
  
I looked up from my guns to watch Kurtis, who was crouched down beside the old iron stove as he bundled firewood into it from a basket nearby. His back was to me, and I watched the muscles moving under the fabric of his shirt as he worked. I thought again of the black tattoo. Clearly Ozan was interested in it too, although for slightly different reasons than my own.  
  
"Kurtis?" I asked, hesitantly.  
  
"Yeah?" He turned to face me.  
  
I took a deep breath. "Can I see it? Your tattoo?" I felt my cheeks burning as I spoke, and hoped he wouldn't notice in the poor light from the lamps.  
  
There was a pause, and then: "Of course."  
  
"Thankyou," I replied. "I just - I'm interested to see it. Ancient languages fascinate me." My voice sounded calm enough, but I doubted I was fooling anyone.  
  
Kurtis finished lighting the fire in silence, then closed the stove door and stood up, glancing over his shoulder at me.  
  
"Don't be trying to take advantage of me, okay?" he teased. He reached up and pulled his t-shirt over his head. I set my guns down on the table beside the chair, and got up. Now that I had an excuse to look at Kurtis' body this closely I wasn't going to waste it, so I stepped closer to him to see the design more clearly in the lamplight.  
  
"What does it mean?"  
  
"I don't know exactly. They're symbols of the Lux Veritatis. They mean – well, it's sort of an oath. In flesh and blood as well as word and mind. It's supposed to bind them all together and make the warrior stronger."  
  
The stove was doing its job; the room suddenly felt a great deal warmer. I lifted a tentative hand and put my fingertips to Kurtis' back. Slowly I moved them along the winding patterns that marked the skin between his shoulder blades and trailed down his left side. "When did you have it done?" I asked.  
  
"When I was sixteen. It was a part of my initiation. It was all done in one session, with old-fashioned needles, and nothing to stop the pain."  
  
"My God. How long did it take?"  
  
"I don't remember. I lost track of time. A day and a night I think. Maybe longer. When one guy was too tired to carry on, another took over. I was hallucinating by the time they finished."  
  
"It must have been a terrible ordeal for someone so young," I said in awe.  
  
"It was agony," he replied. "But that was the point, I guess. Test my mental resilience. The mind is the most important weapon to the Lux Veritatis."  
  
I was still tracing the coiled patterns with my fingers, hypnotised by the intricate markings and the warm flesh beneath them. "For what it's worth, it's very beautiful."  
  
He looked over his shoulder at me. His eyes were soft. "Well then, it was worth it."  
  
I smiled, and moved my hand down his back. I lightly touched the scar to the right of his spine, the souvenir of his fight with that Boaz creature in the Strahov. Just an inch to the left and he would have been paralysed. Other smaller scars were visible here and there, and made slight dips or ridges beneath my fingers. And then there were the bruises, inflicted by Karel, changing slowly from purple to black and mingling with the tattoo that he had been tortured with as a very young man. I felt a sudden wave of sadness for him. So much pain, etched onto one body. Years of it. He had suffered in so many ways. I wished I could soak it up through my hands and take some of it away. I had my own share of scars, but I had at least chosen the dangerous life I led. Kurtis hadn't been so lucky. I leaned closer and kissed his back softly, between his shoulder blades. I felt him shiver slightly as my lips met his skin, and I kept kissing him, across his shoulders and the back of his neck. An unexpected tear escaped and slid down my face, but I ignored it. I moved my hands down his sides, onto his hips, and round to his stomach. I felt for the scar there, and brushed my fingers over it gently. He turned in my loose embrace until I could feel his breath warm on my face, mere inches between us. I waited for his kiss, but instead he spoke.  
  
"Turn around." I looked at him questioningly, but did as he said.  
  
Facing away from him, I felt his hands brush against my back, warm waves spreading through me at this slightest contact. Slowly he started to unravel the long braid that hung almost to my waist. After an initial moment of surprise, I realised that he had never seen me with my hair loose. I had even kept it braided when I went to bed the night before. I loved my hair, which was why I chose to tie it back rather than have it cut off, but it was another part of me that I kept hidden away, unseen and untouched by others. Kurtis didn't just want to be close to me now, he wanted to see me. See all of me. As he teased it loose, I felt as though I had never been touched so intimately before. He swept his fingers close to my scalp, spreading the hair loosely about my shoulders.  
  
I turned back slowly. He kept his hands on my hair, enjoying the feel of it. He looked me over intently with his dark blue eyes.  
  
"My God," he said softly. "Lady Lara Croft."  
  
My pulse was fluttering along with the butterflies in my stomach. I had never felt so nervous in my life, or so desperate for someone. Keeping his eyes locked on mine he ran his hands over my shoulders and down my bare arms, reminding me of our first contact in the Louvre, when he had disarmed me in more ways than one. His touch was warm but my skin tingled against it, raising in goosebumps. All the while his eyes were locked hungrily on mine. There had been a time when I was afraid to be caught in that gaze, scared of what it could mean, but now I found myself unfolding gently within it like an exotic flower bathed in sunlight. His hand reached my waist, and I felt his thumbs brush teasingly under the hem of my vest top. He tugged at the fabric, and I raised my arms for him to pull the garment over my head. As he dropped it to the floor, I hooked a hand around his belt and dragged him even closer to me so our warm bodies were touching. He took my head between his hands, and at long last his mouth was on mine.  
  
We finished undressing each other eagerly but slowly, exploring with hungry hands and eyes, wanting to savour every delicious moment of contact. We couldn't know what the coming days held; nothing was certain. I wanted to treat each kiss, each caress as if it were the last, etch every burning second into my memory. I pulled him down onto the floor with me, and there, on a sheepskin rug in the fading lamplight, we let the desire that had been building in us for so long carry us on into the warm Turkish night.  
  
* * *  
  
:o So, there you go. Please review if you're not still too mad at me! I'm on my Easter holidays so I have more time to write, I'll see what I can do about a new chapter soon. Thank you so much for all the reviews for the last chapter. HUGS ALL ROUND! x 


	17. Translation

YAY! Look, I updated already! *dances* I'm on a roll! Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews, I'm glad you didn't all give up on me ;) I'm slowly getting towards the final showdown; only a few more chapters to go :D This is quite a long one. Enjoy!  
  
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Chapter 17: Translation  
  
I woke up to sunlight streaming through the small window, and turned over in the narrow bed to find myself alone. I sat up and stretched, letting my mind wander back to the events of the night before. Kurtis had definitely been worth the wait. I felt slightly disappointed that he hadn't been there when I woke up, but surely he couldn't be far away. Hopefully he was in the kitchen making coffee. I could murder a cup. Deciding I should probably get up too, I started to look around for clothes, but soon remembered that my outfit from yesterday was scattered around the living room. My suitcase had been left out there, too, so I wrapped a sheet around myself and went out into the hall.  
  
As I opened the bedroom door I heard voices, and stopped short as I saw two figures sitting together in the living room. Kurtis sat with his back to the smaller man, who was looking at the tattoo on his back with interest and scribbling notes in a book that rested on his knees. Both looked up as they heard the door open.  
  
"Ozan!" I said, surprised. "I – er – didn't realise you were here." State the obvious, why don't you, I thought.  
  
Ozan smiled and stood up, bowing his head slightly to me in greeting. "Lara, it is wonderful to see you." Bless him, he was acting as though this were a perfectly normal social occasion. I smiled back, clutching the sheet tighter, and tried to avoid catching Kurtis' eye. My clothes and underwear were piled on a chair and I picked them up, blushing fiercely.  
  
"Please, excuse me for a moment," I said awkwardly, and turned to head for the bathroom. I glanced at Kurtis just before I left the room, and saw his amused grin. I scowled and hurried to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.  
  
A few minutes later I emerged, washed, dressed and rather more prepared for company. My tangled hair was now neatly combed and braided. Smiling bravely, I went back into the living room. Ozan was still peering at Kurtis' tattoo, curiosity on his dark features. I sat down in the same leather armchair as the evening before, next to the table where my pistols still lay.  
  
"Any luck translating it?" I asked Ozan. He looked down at his notes and then at me.  
  
"Some. There is mention of the race of angels, here," he said, gesturing to some symbols close to Kurtis' left shoulder. "It says the gift of light was granted by the angels, to fight the evil that walks on land. And this part" – he gestured again – "says, 'angels without God.' Meaning the Nephilim, I presume. It reads as a kind of oath, stating that the bearer of these markings commits his mind and body to the fight against this evil." I nodded, recalling Kurtis' explanation from the night before. "That part is fairly straightforward. The artist must have understood the meanings of these words. But there are other parts which are very difficult to read, because they are so heavily decorated." He paused and I saw his head turning slightly to left and right as he perused the markings. Kurtis sat waiting patiently. After a moment Ozan pointed to part of the design which reached up onto Kurtis' right shoulder. "This section here is confusing. It looks like decoration, but I think it might also say something. It is very unclear. Perhaps the meaning was forgotten over time... and a result the symbols changed."  
  
Kurtis looked over his shoulder and nodded. "I remember my father once saying that there were no pictures of the oath, that it was copied from one warrior to the next to keep it more secret. The tattoos probably became less accurate the more they were copied."  
  
"Indeed," Ozan replied. "But this does seem strangely familiar. Perhaps my books will help to shed some light; I brought them all with me. But first, I shall make us all some coffee." He stood up and nodded to Kurtis to show that he was finished. Kurtis reached for his shirt and pulled it back on.  
  
"No, please, you carry on working," I said, getting to my feet. "Or at least take a break. I'll make the coffee."  
  
Ozan smiled gratefully, and I went through to the kitchen. A minute later Kurtis followed me in, and slid his hands around my waist as I was filling the coffee pot. He planted a light kiss on my neck.  
  
"I know it's a little late, but good morning," he said close to my ear.  
  
I turned around to place the pot on the kitchen stove. "Morning," I replied, and looked up at him innocently. "Sleep well?"  
  
He smiled. "Fine, thankyou very much for asking. Sorry I didn't wake you. He kind of caught me by surprise, too."  
  
I winced. "I can't believe he saw me like that. It's like being caught by your parents."  
  
"Hey, you had a sheet. I wasn't so lucky."  
  
"Oh God, really?" I grinned.  
  
"Yeah. Hey, it's not funny! The guy nearly gave me a heart attack."  
  
"You poor thing," I said, trying to wipe the smile from my face and failing.  
  
"Yeah. Well, I don't know what's worse. Him catching me walking around naked, or him knowing everything that happened last night without me saying a word."  
  
I shook my head. "Don't. It's too weird. You don't think – I mean, surely he respects our privacy? He won't be poking around in those thoughts, will he?"  
  
Kurtis grinned. "He doesn't have to, not after finding your underwear draped over the furniture."  
  
"Shut up," I scolded, poking him in the chest. "I feel bad enough as it is."  
  
"Sorry. So... do you feel bad?" he replied, trying to look unconcerned. I saw right through it.  
  
"Not about us," I said quietly, and his expression eased. "I feel bad for Ozan. And Ozan's rug," I added, mischievously.  
  
Kurtis laughed. "God, don't. I've been trying so hard not to look at it. He was standing right on it when I came out of the bedroom. Right about where your ass would have been last-"  
  
I jabbed him again. "Shh! He'll hear you!"  
  
He shrugged. "I guess it's too late to worry about that. Anyway, he's more concerned about other things right now."  
  
"I suppose so. Has he mentioned the medallions yet?"  
  
"No. He wanted to take a look at the tattoo first, and talk to us both about the other stuff. I hope there's some good news," he said sceptically.  
  
* * *  
  
A short time later the three of us were sitting together in the living room in silence, while Ozan sorted through a pile of papers. Some were covered with Kurtis' drawings and notes, others with Ozan's more recent research.  
  
"The medallion that you found," he began, "was one of four. Each was concealed in a different holy place within Derinkuyu. Yours was found in the east church, I believe."  
  
"Yeah," said Kurtis. "Nikolajev, the archaeologist we met in London, was excavating the deeper levels of the city and found it in a hidden chamber behind the church. I went down there to see if I could get inside, and that's when Karel attacked me and took the medallion."  
  
"This is what I find most curious," Ozan replied. "The medallions bear the language of the Light of Truth, and together they would have created an incredibly strong binding spell to keep the Nephilim imprisoned beneath the ground. Of course, this spell would have become weaker as each medallion was removed through the years. But even on its own, each medallion would be damaging to a Nephilim. The Light of Truth would be like poison to them. And so it surprises and worries me that Karel was able to take the medallion from you. He must have some resistance to the power of the language."  
  
"He didn't seem affected by it," Kurtis told him. "He gave me quite a beating after taking it, and I have no doubt he could have done worse. Although -" He frowned. "No, wait, something did happen to him. The sneaky son of a bitch appeared to me as Lara, but after taking the medallion the illusion kind of shifted, like he couldn't keep a hold on it." He glanced at me briefly as he spoke, and I saw in his eyes that he was still shaken by Karel's deception.  
  
"Maybe it's because he is only half Nephilim," I suggested. "Hard as it is to believe, Karel is mostly human."  
  
"Perhaps that explains it," said Ozan. He sifted through his papers again until he found a couple of colour photocopies, which he handed to Kurtis and myself.  
  
"This is the second medallion," he explained. "The one from the museum in Aksaray. It is very fortunate that the museum had these copies, because earlier in the week, the replica itself was stolen."  
  
I looked up in surprise. "Stolen?"  
  
Ozan nodded. "The curators in Aksaray were most confused, because the replica is not valuable. But as they already had records of all the markings on the medallion, they were not overly concerned about the theft. They put it down to opportunistic thieves who mistook the piece for a valuable artefact. However, I feel this is too much of a coincidence."  
  
I had to agree with him there. "So you think it was Karel." I frowned. "But I don't understand. If the medallions were created to keep the Nephilim imprisoned, what does Karel want with them? He wants to set them free."  
  
"Well, it makes sense that he took ours," Kurtis argued. "He certainly wouldn't want us to have one if it could mess up his plans."  
  
"That's true. But why steal a worthless replica?" None of us had an answer.  
  
Ozan sighed and got to his feet. "I must try to make a connection with someone close to Karel," he said. "We need to know more about his plans, and find a safe route into the city for the two of you."  
  
Kurtis and I agreed that it would be best to give Ozan some peace and quiet while he tried to establish a mental link. No doubt he would be able to focus more easily without the nearby buzz of our own highly active minds. We decided to drive back into Derinkuyu town to the inn where Kurtis had been staying, and collect his motorbike and possessions.  
  
We drove down into the town at a leisurely pace, enjoying the feel of the sunshine and the breeze. We probably had a day or two of talking and planning ahead of us, cooped up in Ozan's house, so we welcomed a drive in fresh air and a comfortable silence. I pulled into the dusty car park outside the inn and looked around cautiously. We had to be on guard in case Karel or his spies were anywhere near. Fortunately, the door to Kurtis' room was still locked, and the interior seemed undisturbed when we looked through the window. As we went inside, I was reminded of Kurtis' rather unusual greeting two days earlier.  
  
"I hope you're not going to threaten to blow my brains out this time," I said.  
  
"No," he replied, smiling wickedly. "I'll just bang your brains out."  
  
I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow, but he caught hold of both my wrists and pushed me back against the wall, kicking the door closed behind us. He kissed me hungrily and I couldn't help but reciprocate, feeling his warm body press against mine.  
  
"We can't," I said when we finally broke for air. "We have to get back to Ozan, in case he needs us."  
  
Kurtis bent and kissed my neck. "He'll call if he needs us," he protested.  
  
"No," I argued, a smile taking the scornful edge off my words. "Kurtis, stop, we don't have time for that. We have to be ready." I forced some authority back into my voice. "This is important."  
  
He groaned and released me. "I know, I know," he said sulkily. "I just can't resist you."  
  
I flashed him a seductive smile and turned to the table where his laptop still stood. I packed it away while he gathered up his clothes and other possessions. "You know, from the minute I saw you," he said from behind me, "I knew you were going to just love driving me crazy."  
  
I turned to face him, eyebrows raised playfully. "Oh, and you don't like being driven crazy by me?"  
  
He turned his hypnotic blue eyes on me. "What can I say? I'm deeply flawed."  
  
Not surprisingly, the journey back to Ozan's house turned into a race between my jeep and his bike. To my great annoyance, Kurtis won and was grinning triumphantly when I pulled up outside the house. We went inside, bickering amiably over who was the better driver, but stopped short as we saw Ozan. He was sitting in the living room, his face as pale as ash.  
  
"My friends," he said shakily.  
  
"What's wrong?" Kurtis asked, and I saw his hand reach instinctively for the Chirugai on his belt.  
  
"It is Karel," Ozan replied. "I know why he took the medallions. He is going to use them to break the Nephilim free."  
  
"What? But how?" I sat down beside Ozan and took his hand reassuringly.  
  
"I'm not sure... but he has found a way to use them, to reverse the magic that kept the deepest chamber closed. There is still a door that he cannot penetrate, but he knows how. And he is ready."  
  
"Okay, slow down." I told him. "There's another door?"  
  
"Yes. The medallions kept the entrance to the lower passages closed. When Nikolajev took the last one, he left Derinkuyu's defences vulnerable. Those passages had been closed for many, many centuries, but now they are open. And down at the bottom there is another door. Or perhaps not a door; I think it is more like –"He waved his hand in frustration, trying to remember the word he was looking for. "More like a cork in a bottle. There is a blockage, keeping all the Nephilim's energy shut up tight inside their cave. And Karel has found out a way of using the four medallions to break through this last threshold."  
  
My pounding heart calmed a little. "Wait," I said soothingly. "This is good news. There's another door that he can't open yet. That means we still have time. And Karel doesn't have all the medallions. He has the one Nikolajev found, for certain, but we don't know about the others. And one of the ones he has is just a replica. It's probably useless to him."  
  
Ozan listened, but still looked worried. "I am not so sure. I felt Karel's presence down there, and he is happy. He is excited. They all are...," he trailed off.  
  
"I think I know what he's going to do," Kurtis said gravely after a long silence. Ozan and I looked at him in interest. "Perhaps he doesn't need the actual originals. Perhaps he just needs them to be gold." My eyes widened as he went on. "Eckhardt was probably the most powerful alchemist of all time. Over the years he developed the knowledge required to transmute matter into gold, and since Karel set himself up as Eckhardt's right hand man, there's no reason why he couldn't have access to that knowledge too."  
  
"So he could change the replica," I said, feeling my heart sink. "Which means he really is ready."  
  
"No," Ozan replied, quietly. "Not yet. He is waiting for one last thing." He looked from me to Kurtis, his brown eyes full of sadness. "You."  
  
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:o Ooooh I'm making myself nervous now! And I already know what's going to happen XD Let me know if you like how this is going. As I said, I'm on a bit of a roll, so hopefully I'll have more to post soon! 


	18. Going Underground

:O I know... you can't believe it. I updated. I'm not even going to hazard a guess as to how long it's been. Well, if anyone can still remember what was happening in this story, please read and enjoy! It's a nice long chapter to make up for my long period of crapness. Hope you like it.

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**Chapter 18: Going Underground**  
  
"I don't understand," I said, once I had found my voice again. The ground suddenly didn't feel quite so firm beneath my feet. "What does he want with us?"  
  
"I don't know," Ozan replied. "I just know that their preparations have been halted until your arrival. I cannot make contact directly with Karel; he is too difficult to reach, and it would be too risky – he might detect my presence."  
  
"Who did you read?" Kurtis asked.  
  
Ozan slipped off his glasses and began wiping the lenses with a cotton handkerchief. "One of his senior guards, down near the final door. And another of his colleagues, just to be certain. They do not understand why he wants to wait either, but they are doing as he ordered."  
  
"Shit," Kurtis muttered, and looked over at me. I met his eye and read the concern there.  
  
"There has to be a good reason," I said. "If he didn't need something he would have just got on with opening the door, before anyone could interfere. Like I did when I stopped him from using the Sleeper." I shook my head in frustration. "It just doesn't make sense."  
  
"He's already taken the medallion from us," Kurtis argued. "We don't have anything else he wants. Unless he just wants us to watch," he added, grimly.  
  
"And then get torn apart by the newly awakened Nephilim," I replied with a shudder. I looked back at Ozan, hopeful of some explanation. "Do you think it could be that simple? Is Karel really that arrogant?"  
  
Ozan had replaced his glasses now, and was focusing on the stone floor thoughtfully. "He is certainly behaving that way," he said. "His staff are concerned that he is too confident, that he is taking an unnecessary risk. But... I cannot say for certain."  
  
I began to pace back and forth anxiously, while Kurtis spoke up from behind me. "Ozan, have you picked up on anything at all that suggests Karel needs something else to complete the ritual?"  
  
"No. As I said, it seems that he is ready, but waiting." He shook his head. "I wish I could tell you more. If you go down into the city, you will be in great danger. They will be waiting for you."  
  
Kurtis and I exchanged glances. "Danger, we can handle," I said. "We just have to be prepared. If we can get hold of more ammunition, first aid supplies, some flares..."  
  
"We can have the advantage here," Kurtis said, nodding in agreement. I could tell his adrenalin had started pumping. Mine was too. "I can use my farsee to scope out the passageways ahead, so we can avoid the guards or at least take them by surprise." I noticed the way his hand hovered close to the dormant Chirugai. Turning to Ozan, he continued. "And you can help us to pick the best route, and get down into the lower passages."  
  
"Yes, that's true," Ozan replied hesitantly, the uncertainty lingering in his eyes. "Together we can get the two of you through the camp and down into the city without raising the alarm." He exhaled slowly. "But... I still have a bad feeling about this."  
  
I sat down beside him on the couch and put my hand over his. Of course he was afraid of Karel succeeding in his plan, but I could see that he was also worried about Kurtis and I getting hurt. I squeezed his hand, touched at his concern for us.  
  
"Yeah. Karel doesn't exactly give me the warm and fuzzies either," Kurtis said gravely. "But this is what we came here to do."  
  
Half an hour later I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking over some rough sketches that Ozan had made of the layout of Karel's camp. Ozan sat close by on the couch looking through a selection of his books, brow furrowed in concentration. He was still trying to locate the meaning of the last symbol in Kurtis' tattoo. After our previous conversation he had got on the telephone to a contact of his who could provide us with ammo and other supplies, and Kurtis was currently out in the jeep meeting up with the contact.  
  
"So from the south of the camp, we should make our way around to this area," I said, tracing the route with my finger. "The entrance tunnel will be the most heavily guarded, so it might be worth us splitting up and attacking from different sides." I tapped the paper thoughtfully. "Kurtis can use his Chirugai, and I can pick off the others from here..." I was talking to myself more than anything, but sensed Ozan watching me, and looked up.  
  
"Kurtis is lucky to have you beside him. He can trust you more than anyone."  
  
"Thankyou," I replied, pleasantly surprised by his words. "Have you told him that?"  
  
Ozan shook his head. "That is not necessary," he said warmly. "He already knows."  
  
I felt a swell of affection towards the man, and wondered how far we would have got without his help. "Ozan?" I said awkwardly, staring at the floor. "I just wanted to say – That is, I wanted to apologise. For this morning. We didn't mean to embarrass you." I felt my face reddening.  
  
"There is no need to apologise," he assured me kindly. I looked up at his smiling face. "It is most rewarding to see the two of you happy. I noticed right away that there is a strong spiritual connection between the two of you."  
  
I returned his smile, then my expression changed as an odd suspicion arose in my mind. "Hang on a minute," I said, narrowing my eyes at our host. "Last night, when told us you had to stay in Nevsehir. You weren't by any chance setting us up, were you?"  
  
Ozan blinked at me innocently. "Lara, you think very poorly of me," he replied, but I caught the glint of amusement in his eye.  
  
"Why, you sly old fox," I said, grinning. "'Spiritual connection' indeed."  
  
By the time three o'clock came around, the mood in the house was a lot more sombre. Kurtis had returned, and I stood at the kitchen table loading supplies into my backpack while he talked with Ozan in the other room. In addition to extra ammunition for my pistols and his Boran X, Kurtis had acquired a small crossbow, a tube of antiseptic cream, and some bandages. Hopefully we wouldn't have any need for the latter. I fastened my holsters around my waist and bent to secure the straps around my thighs. Kurtis walked in behind me and gathered up his ammunition, checking that his gun was fully loaded before inserting the boxes into the pouch on his belt.  
  
"I want you to take this," he said, indicating the crossbow. "The Chirugai is almost silent, but your pistols are likely to attract a lot of attention. If you use this we can get further before anyone knows we're there."  
  
I nodded, sliding my backpack onto my shoulders. "I vote we take the motorbike. It's fast, and easier to hide when we get there."  
  
"Agreed," Kurtis replied.  
  
"Is Ozan ready?"  
  
"Yeah. He's a little pissed that he couldn't find out what that last symbol meant, but I told him it didn't matter now. Oh, and it turns out he has a revolver, nothing fancy, but I said he should keep it close, just in case."  
  
"Good idea," I said, pulling on my leather fingerless gloves. I picked up the crossbow and looked at Kurtis. "Well then. Let's do this."  
  
We said our goodbyes to Ozan, who insisted on embracing us both tightly before we left.  
  
"I can't tell you how grateful we are to you," I said as I hugged him back. "You've done so much." I pulled away and went to the front door. "Keep in touch," I said finally, tapping a finger against my temple with a smile, and closed the door behind me.  
  
We rode to Karel's camp at a pace slower than our usual tearaway speed, both silently aware that the hours to come could possibly be our last. We weren't too eager to rush to that fate. Sitting behind Kurtis with my arms wrapped tightly around him, I tried to avoid thinking about how this was the last chance we would have for some time to be so close together. I wasn't nervous, or afraid, and I doubt Kurtis was either; but we approached the coming battle with a kind of grim anticipation, not wanting to lose sight of what was at stake.  
  
Keeping a safe distance between ourselves and the camp, we rode around to the south where there was plenty of undergrowth to conceal the bike. Checking our weapons one final time, we nodded to one another before setting off in different directions. There was nothing we could say here and now.  
  
I crept over the rocky ground towards the western part of the camp, crossbow at the ready, and once there took cover behind one of the smaller tents. I gave Kurtis a minute or so to reach his mark on the other side and scan around for guards. His time up, I moved at a crouch to the corner of the tent, where I had a good view of the area around the tunnel entrance. Several long, slow minutes passed by before I saw the familiar orange streak of the Chirugai ripping through the air, and heard voices raise in alarm. From my vantage point I couldn't see much of the damage Kurtis' weapon caused, but as planned, I was well placed to pick off the remaining guards as they ran towards their comrades' warning cries. Light clouds of dust flew up and then settled gently around the bodies of Karel's soldiers as they fell silently to the ground. When all was still, I edged between the tents, bow held out before me; once I was certain no more enemies were waiting nearby, I sprinted across the open stretch to the tarpaulin-draped shack that housed the tunnel entrance. I ducked inside and dropped down into the mouth of the passageway, a more or less vertical chasm several feet wide with a ladder against one edge. I descended the ladder into total darkness, finding solid ground again after a little time, and I waited there with baited breath for Kurtis to join me.  
  
No more than a minute later a patch of sunlight appeared beyond the opening above, and I saw Kurtis lower himself onto the ladder. I waited until he had reached my side before lighting a flare, and we stood in the sudden glare for a moment, taking in our surroundings. A narrow tunnel sloped slowly downwards away from us, and with a quick glance at each other we set off down the dank path. This roughly made tunnel had obviously been carved out only recently by Karel's team, but as we progressed we were able to make out an intersection ahead, and smoother, more rounded walls. Emerging into a larger tunnel, I stared around in wonder at the ancient passageway, taking in the graceful curve of the ceiling and the small stone figures set into alcoves in the walls. Here and there the floor was worn down by the many thousands of feet that had passed along the tunnels through the ages.  
  
Noticing my expression of awe, Kurtis smiled. "Pretty amazing, huh."  
  
"Absolutely," I replied. "Just imagine, living down here with no sunlight."  
  
"Yeah. Must be kinda like living in England," he teased.  
  
Karel's diggers had tapped right into this tunnel at a right angle, and I looked to left and right wondering which way to turn.  
  
"This way," Kurtis said, gesturing to me to follow. Seeing my puzzled expression, he smiled. "I've been here before, remember? When the very lovely Lara Karel kicked my ass."  
  
The memory shook me slightly, bringing back to the forefront of my mind how much danger lay ahead – or rather, below. We made our way for some time through long, sloping passageways and down twisted stairways, Kurtis leading, and me sparking flares to life at regular intervals to light the way. Eventually we saw another source of light up ahead, and I ditched the flare I was carrying in favour of the crossbow.  
  
"This is the church," Kurtis said in a hushed voice. "The one with the secret chamber, where Nikolajev's medallion was found." He slotted his fingers into the holes in the Chirugai and held the weapon out before him, blades exposed. Standing half-hidden by the doorway, we checked every visible corner of the church before moving inside.  
  
"Wow," I breathed, gazing around in wonder. This was by far the most elaborate room we had seen so far. Huge painted panels hung on the walls, depicting Biblical images of saints and angels. Winged statues stood on either side of the stone altar, and more angelic figures were carved in bas- relief on the supporting columns, pointing towards the heavens. "These must have been added by Ozan's early ancestors."  
  
A sudden odd sensation in my head knocked me slightly off balance, and I grabbed out at the wall for support. I was about to utter a word of surprise when another sensation joined the first; almost like sound, but within me rather than around me.  
  
"Lara?" I heard someone say, and frowned in confusion at Kurtis. His lips hadn't moved.  
  
I let out a sudden laugh of relief and comprehension, the sound echoing around the church walls. "Ozan? Is that you?" I said aloud.  
  
_Yes. I am going to guide you down to the lower levels_, the strange voice echoed in my head. _Did you reach the complex safely? You are not hurt?_  
  
"We're fine," Kurtis said this time, and I realised that Ozan was speaking to us both at once.  
  
_Excellent news. Very well. Do you know which way to go from the church?  
_  
"No," Kurtis replied. "Wherever Karel took me from here, I was practically unconscious."  
  
_Let me see... the doors behind you lead to more living areas... Ah! The archway to your left, Kurtis. Go through it. There will be a spiral staircase; follow it down.  
_  
I walked after Kurtis as he went through into the next gloomy corridor, and followed the light from his flare as he began to descend a deep corkscrew of stone stairs. He turned to check that I was close by, and noticed me smiling.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
I shrugged. "Oh, nothing. I'm just remembering my 'things to do' list for today. Number one: explore an ancient underground city with the help of a telekinetic Lux Veritatis warrior and a telepath. Number two: defeat an immortal part-Nephilim hell-bent on world domination. Number three: return library books..."  
  
Kurtis laughed, and I followed the welcome sound as we made our way down, deeper and deeper into the bowels of Derinkuyu.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

:) Whee! They're finally getting to the final stages! Pleeeeeease review and give me your much-appreciated feedback. I'll be writing more ASAP.


	19. Darkness and Light

Whoo! I'm updating for the second time in a week!! And it's another long one. I think I deserve ice cream and cookies :) Thankyou for the lovely reviews and encouragement. hugs

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**Chapter 19: Darkness and Light**

As we got further down into Derinkuyu we were forced to move a lot more cautiously. Karel's guards were keeping a close watch at each stairway and passageway, alert to every sound and movement. Kurtis and I had to progress in silence, communicating only with hand signals or, when it was too dark to see, Ozan had to step in as mediator. We had had to abandon the use of flares when Ozan warned us that there were guards waiting in the dark with only flashlights, watching for approaching lights that could signal the presence of intruders. In the tunnels lit by gas lamps or strings of electric bulbs, Kurtis could use his farsee to scout ahead for enemies, but in the darkened places we had to feel our way along the rough walls, relying on Ozan to scan the area psychically for the presence of guards. The Chirugai made quick and effective work of the lone guards, while those in pairs or even threes had to be taken out swiftly by our combined weaponry.

We reached an archway that led into a large, high-ceilinged hall, and paused outside it with our backs to the wall.

_How many inside?_ I asked, before waiting several seconds for Ozan to analyse the room.

_Four,_ he replied eventually. _Two close to the left wall, standing together. The third is on the right side in the nearest corner, ready to aim at anyone who comes through the doorway. The fourth is just outside the archway at the other end of the room – your exit._

I exchanged glances with Kurtis, who was standing on the opposite side of the archway. Although we couldn't read one another's thoughts, we knew exactly what we had to do.

I crouched down and readied the crossbow. Rounding the edge of the doorway just enough to take aim, I fired off two lethal shots in immediate succession, dropping both enemies on the left hand side of the hall before the second could even turn towards his felled partner. At the same moment, Kurtis' Chirugai flew through the archway above my head and into the right hand corner, still concealed from our view. A heavy thud and the clatter of a dropped firearm told us the third man was dead. Kurtis was already on his way through the hall, the Chirugai streaking ahead of his outstretched arm to the exit archway, illuminating the darkened corridor beyond and slicing through the chest of the final soldier as he tried to raise his weapon.

We strode on together towards the next chamber, growing more confident in our task. The men who made up Karel's workforce were dropping like flies in our path, and he didn't even know we were coming. I smiled grimly to myself, reflecting that perhaps our chances were better than we had predicted.

The feeling was short-lived, however. A sudden mental jolt left me tumbling to me knees, and a gasp from Kurtis signalled that he had felt it too. My body shook as my thoughts were submerged momentarily in a wave of ice-cold fear.

_Ozan?! _I called out frantically with my mind. _What's wrong? What's going on?_

Kurtis reached for me and helped me to my feet, his eyes wide and anxious.

Another mental surge hit us both, comprehensible this time._ No…It's him… He's coming!_

_What?_ I looked around urgently, reaching for my pistols. The Chirugai was already hovering in the dank air by Kurtis' shoulder. The passage ahead was as silent and still as before. _Where? Ozan, who's there?_

Karel- 

And suddenly, Ozan was gone.

"What the hell is going on?" Kurtis asked, frozen.

I shook my head. "Karel… he must know we're here." I levelled my pistols at the empty path ahead, adrenalin pulsing through my veins. "But we're not ready to fight him."

"I'll use my farsee," Kurtis said. The Chirugai snapped back onto his hand, the blades retracting with a sharp click.

"No," I argued. "It's too dangerous. You'll be defenceless."

He looked at me sternly. "We can't just stand here and wait. We have to know where he is. Otherwise we're fish in a barrel."

The thought of Kurtis leaving his body at such a critical moment distressed me, but I nodded in agreement. "Alright. Be quick."

He held out his arms, the palms of his hands facing upwards, and his body shuddered as his mind was propelled out of it. I stood waiting for what seemed like an eternity, keeping a constant check on the passageways ahead of us and behind, ears straining for the slightest sound. At long last I heard Kurtis take a sharp intake of breath, and turned to look at him. He was back, and he didn't look happy.

"He's not here," he said breathlessly, running a hand over his face.

"What do you mean? He's got to be here."

"No. He's not. At least… he's not heading this way." He shook his head in confusion. "Something's wrong."

"So what do we do now?" I asked, praying that Ozan would hear me and respond. What the hell was he doing?

A terrible thought struck me, and I gasped, one hand flying to my mouth. "Oh God, no-"

"What?" Kurtis demanded, seeing my shocked expression. "Lara, what is it?"

When I spoke again my voice was fainter than before. "Karel's not coming to us, Kurtis," I said weakly. "He's going for Ozan."

"Jesus," Kurtis replied, face stricken. "Karel will tear him apart."

We knew we had to do something, and fast. Ozan desperately needed our help. We went over our options hurriedly, growing more uneasy with every second wasted. As I was the faster runner it made sense that I went to Ozan, although Kurtis was unhappy at the thought of me crossing paths with Karel. But what choice did we have? Meanwhile he would keep heading down towards the last doorway, and take advantage of Karel's absence to sabotage his plans in any way possible.

"Even if I can just get hold of one of the medallions, Karel won't be able to open the door," he reasoned. I nodded at the plan, and in my haste I turned to run back the way we had come. Kurtis reached out and grabbed my hand to stop me.

"Be careful," he said gravely, his eyes giving away the concern he felt. I wanted to tell him the same thing, but found that I just couldn't say the words. It would be too much like admitting my fears, and that hurt too much.

"I'll see you soon," I told him instead, and then turned and ran without looking back.

I backtracked to the entrance in a fraction of the time it had taken to get down there. Knowing that we had already taken out all the enemies on our way down, I was able to use my flares again now, and my booted feet pounded along the rock floors as I sprinted back towards the surface. The sunlight was blinding as I clambered up the ladder and out into the deserted camp.

Reunited with the motorbike, I kicked it into action and steered it back towards the road, dust flying in my wake. I tore along the streets towards Ozan's house, my gloved hand forcing the accelerator as far as it would go. A short time later the bike squealed to a halt on the worn driveway. My heart gave a sickening jolt as I saw the front door standing open, the sweat on my arms and chest suddenly feeling like ice. Drawing my weapons, I stepped through the doorway and into the hall. The house was silent. I wanted to call out to Ozan but fought the instinct; I would only put him in greater danger. Besides, he wouldn't need to hear my voice to know that I was nearby.

I crossed the stone floor of the living area, treading as softly as I could, glancing into the empty kitchen before continuing along the corridor to Ozan's room. The door was closed. I stood outside, heart pounding and mouth dry. When I was sure there was no sound from within, I pushed open the door in slow motion and stepped inside. A familiar smell hit me as I crossed the threshold; a hard, smoky smell. In another moment I would have placed the smell from memory, but I didn't need to. The explanation lay right in front of me. _Gunsmoke_. I clasped my eyes shut for a moment and clenched my teeth to choke back a scream of anger. Letting my breath out slowly, I approached the bed. Ozan lay motionless on his back, the breast of his white suit stained crimson. In his hand was the old-fashioned revolver that Kurtis had told him to keep close by. He had shot himself in the heart rather than face Karel.

I sank to my knees beside the bed, face creased up in grief, and reached out for my friend's arm. His skin was still warm and I squeezed his hand tightly, like I had earlier that day when he could still feel it. I sat for several minutes beside him, letting a numb despair settle over me after the frantic but futile dash to get to Ozan in time. I don't know how long I might have sat there, paralysed, if I hadn't seen the book. Lying open as though it had been dropped, a spiral-bound notebook lay on the tiled floor, half concealed by the bed.

I reached out and picked it up, flicking through pages packed tightly with Ozan's small, neat handwriting. I stopped suddenly at a double page covered in unusual, winding symbols surrounded by various scribbled notes in both Turkish and English. These were the symbols from Kurtis' tattoo. Ozan had been using this notebook only this morning. I scanned the following pages, looking for some shred of information that might be helpful now the man himself was gone. The familiar words 'light of truth' and 'Nephilim' appeared several times along with others, such as 'beacon', 'heaven' and 'angel'. There didn't seem to be anything much that Ozan hadn't told us himself, but as I reached the last page of notes something odd caught my eye. There had been one particular symbol in Kurtis' tattoo that Ozan had recognised but been unable to decipher. The same symbol was drawn several times on the page with slight variations, and most of the notes around them had been crossed through and rendered illegible. But at the bottom of the page, the word 'Asharagael' had been scrawled in large, bold letters that made a sharp contrast with Ozan's normally meticulous script. I had only a brief moment to ponder its significance, however, before a sound came from behind me. I turned slowly, already knowing who was there.

"Lara," the familiar cold voice said. "I wondered if you might turn up. Alone?"

I got to my feet carefully, sliding the notebook back under the bed as I did so to keep it hidden. I looked up at Karel and grimaced. "Yes. I'm alone."

He nodded with interest. "So, that means our brave warrior is still in the chambers. Not to worry. He won't get far enough to cause any damage." The half-Nephilim was in his human camouflage, as he had been when I first saw him. Only his eyes, dark and cruel with age, gave away any hint of his true nature. He was dressed in a long black coat and black gloves that would have been torturous to a human mortal in the sweltering Turkish climate.

"What did you want with Ozan?" I snarled, hands on the butts of my pistols.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm sure you already know that. Ozan was viewing the city through the eyes of my staff, and he was trying to communicate with you. I can't allow that kind of thing to continue." He glanced at the figure on the bed. "But he felt me coming. He must have died quickly, I'm sure there was very little pain." He spoke as if this would be some comfort; some justification.

I pointed both pistols at his head. "We're going to stop you, Karel. You won't achieve any of it. We're going to kill you and send you to hell."

He gave me a brief look of pity before striding towards me and grabbing me by the neck with one hand. The few bullets I managed to discharge failed to slow him down. Without the slightest sign of effort he swung me around and flung me through the open doorway, back into the corridor. I slid along the stone floor, past the kitchen, and crashed against the far wall. Karel walked back towards me from the bedroom as I lay grazed and stunned, clutching my throbbing throat and gasping for air.

He stood in the shadows a few feet away waiting for me to recover, and smiled politely, clasping his gloved hands behind his back. I clambered back to my feet, guns thankfully still in my hands, and glared at him through the loose strands of hair hanging in my face.

"You're not going to win," I told him again. "Even if you kill me right here."

Karel actually looked impressed. "Of course you must tell yourself that. You have great passion. And it is admirable, your strength of will, although you are fighting for a side that is already defeated. I wish that some of my followers had shown the same strength of spirit as you, Lara. I would not have had to waste so much time."

"I'm not the only one who's strong. And we are certainly not defeated yet," I replied through gritted teeth.

He shook his head. "It is as good as over for you. But it need not be."

"If you're thinking of trying to sell me the Nephilim dream again," I sneered, "don't waste your breath."

"Would it be so difficult?" he asked quietly. "To shift your allegiance to me? It would please me to have you at my side. You have nothing to lose, Lara. This way, you live. You have power. I can give you whatever you want." As he spoke this last line, he stepped closer to me, his outline shifting and breaking up in the shadows. As he stepped into the light from the kitchen window, his transformation ended. He stood before me, Kurtis down to the finest detail, replicating perfectly the line of his jaw, the unruly hair, the curve of his lips. He had performed this trick before, in the Strahov, but that didn't make it any easier for me to watch this time. Even though I knew Karel lurked underneath the surface, the illusion threw my mind into momentary confusion.

But no amount of Nephilim magic could reproduce the look in Kurtis' eyes, the spark that was inside him. I was disgusted to think he would try to impress me with this empty shell and promises of glory. Guns clasped tightly in both hands, I fired six rounds into that beautiful borrowed face.

Gazing at me with vague curiosity, Karel closed the distance between us, the marks from my bullets smoothing away effortlessly as his face changed back to its previous form. Without warning he struck me hard around the head, his hand blazing with green light as it flew towards me. I toppled to the floor, vision swimming drunkenly, and lay helpless on the cold stone. I saw a pair of smartly polished boots striding away towards the door, and then my consciousness left me.

...........

**A/N:** Buahahaha! Oh yes, the cliffhangers will be truly evil from now on. Most of the remaining chapters are already written, but you ain't getting anything if you don't review! :p Press the button... do it... you know you want to...


	20. The Final Door

:o Hello again…many thankies for the reviews. That's the spirit! You review, I write, everybody's happy ;) 

I warn you: there's not going to be much fun for the next couple of chapters. Basically stuff gets kinda nasty. And there will be cliffhangers. Oh yes.

**Chapter 20: The Final Door**

I descended once more into the pit of the city, following the grim paper trail of used flares, dead guards and my own smudged footprints in the dust. The sound of my footsteps echoed startlingly loud and clear in the silent gloom of the arched hall that Kurtis and I had last passed through together. I didn't know how much time I had spent unconscious after my fruitless encounter with Karel, but every lost minute had put more distance between me and Kurtis. The sense of dread with which I had woken had only been made worse by Ozan's wide open front door and the unharmed motorcycle on the drive. I felt as though Karel was inviting me back towards Derinkuyu to witness the final act of his big show. In his eyes, my most desperate efforts were an amusement rather than a threat.

Some way beyond the hall I came into a large square area lined with pillars. It would have resembled a courtyard if there had been open sky overhead rather than hundreds of metres of rock. Glaring electric lamps hung from some of the pillars, and bundles of cable lay twisted along the paved floor. The lights and the low electric hum of a generator in one corner made the scene most surreal, as though I had walked onto a movie set rather than a historical site. Around the edges of the room was more evidence of recent activity: water bottles, crates of ammunition, medical supplies. Karel and his army's most recent base of operations, perhaps. A couple more bodies were slumped on the ground beside fallen weapons.

I crossed the room towards a huge doorway which, even in my restless state, I found quite breathtaking. The double doors themselves were made of wood, and I marvelled at how well preserved they were. Images of winged angels and men with flames reaching from their heads were inlaid in gilt metal that shone as brightly as if it had been forged yesterday. Something was written in the elaborate curved script of the Light of Truth on long panels across the doors, and I wondered what it said. Looking around the doorway, I noticed four circular indentations in the frame, and I realised what I had found. This was the main doorway that Karel had had to get through, and the round holes were for the medallions removed from the churches above. I understood now why the door was still in such immaculate condition. It was protected by a mystical force, weakened when the medallions were removed from their hiding places. The writing on the door was probably another prayer or spell that helped to seal in the evil beyond, and made the portal itself impenetrable. But now the doors stood open, and the secrets beyond could destroy everything. Heart racing, I walked through the doorway.

I pressed on into the unfamiliar corridors, alert as before to any sign that Kurtis had passed through. Many times I called his name, but only a hollow echo of my own voice returned. Here and there were the bodies of more guards, their torsos and limbs slit open grotesquely by the Chirugai blades, and I could follow the imprints of Kurtis' boots in the dustier areas. As long as I could see proof of his movements I had hope that he was still alive and unharmed.

The only way now was down, and the deeper I descended the colder it became. In some parts of the city above I had felt a sense of reverence and calm, lingering long after the last inhabitants had deserted. Down here in the most forgotten catacombs, that feeling was replaced with a menacing chill, a haunting and malevolent presence hanging in the stale air. The feeling only grew stronger as I moved onwards, and only through stubbornly fixating on my goal did I manage to ignore the fear creeping up my spine.

Eventually I reached a large, rounded space and stopped to peer into the shadows. The passages behind me had been sparsely lit with oil lamps, but this room was in almost complete darkness. I lit a flare and started to make my way around the curving wall of what seemed more like a cave than a room, the stone rough and jagged. My light flickered around the walls, every bump and dip in the stone creating wavering peaks and valleys of shadow.

As my eyes got used to the intense darkness I saw that there was some kind of stone platform in the middle of the room, but other than the opening through which I had entered there was no apparent exit around the walls. I cursed in frustration. I couldn't possibly have missed any other passageway on my way down here, so where was Karel? Was this another part of his game?

As I looked around desperately at the solid rock, my foot struck something which went skidding a short way across the floor. I bent to pick it up, and examined the slightly bent disc in my hand. It was covered in chalky dust from the floor and for a moment I didn't recognise it. Then, with a sickening jolt, I realised that I was holding the Chirugai. I slid my shaking fingers into the holes as I had done once before in the Strahov, and waited for the blades to slide out as they had then and pull me towards the life force of its owner. But this time the blades remained locked away tight inside the lifeless disc. I squeezed my eyes closed and breathed in slowly and deeply as a despair more intense than the cold and the dark started to reach its fingers around my heart. Kurtis' most powerful weapon had been damaged and abandoned, and was no longer responding to his presence.

Was this what it had come to? All the struggling and the danger we had faced to get this far, only for me to lose both Ozan and Kurtis in the same day. The despair took me, and I sank to the floor. Suddenly the only remaining belief in my mind was that if Kurtis was dead, then there was really no point in going on. I had lost everything else, and if he was gone too, then this world was too cruel and terrible to bother saving. Let the Nephilim take it.

Eventually I opened my eyes again. What would Kurtis have thought if he knew I was this close to giving in? He had fought a lifetime of pain and despair and never stopped fighting. I pictured Karel's face, gloating that he had the power to take so much from me, and I felt a fire erupt inside me, my pain fuelling an overwhelming fury. Whatever he had done to Kurtis, and whatever he planned to do with me, at least I could give him a fight he would never forget. If I lived to see another day, then I could cry. But for now the only thing on my mind was vengeance.

I put the Chirugai into my backpack and stood up. The platform in the centre of the room was my best hope for an explanation, and I lit a second flare as I approached so I could make it out more clearly. I gasped in surprise. It wasn't a platform at all, but rather the mouth of some kind of deep well, raised up from the rest of the room. I edged closer and leaned over the edge of the hole. There was light somewhere far down below, flickering and faint, but this had to be the way to Karel. I recalled Ozan's description of the final door as 'a cork in a bottle', and realised that this must be the bottle's 'neck'. There was no sign of whatever blockage had been removed, so I assumed it must have either crumbled and fallen through the hole or been vaporised in Karel's ritual. How on earth was I supposed to get down there? Gravity was no obstacle to Karel, as I remembered only too well from our encounter in Eckhardt's lab, when he had circled in the air above me as though weightless. Sadly, I didn't have the same advantage. Feeling around the inside of the well, I discovered that it was made of rather fissured, porous rock. It was also narrow enough that I could probably support myself against opposite walls with my legs if handholds became scarce. And if I did fall, well, hopefully I would land on Karel and at least give him a nasty scare. I smiled grimly, lighting a fresh flare, and manoeuvred myself over the edge.

I inched down the well slowly, the climb seeming to take an eternity. Beneath me the light grew gradually stronger, although I could still see nothing and no one in the chamber below. My arms and legs throbbed with the effort of the descent, but I urged them on to do me this one final favour. After some time the well started to widen, and I was forced to carry on down one side of the gap using whatever hand and footholds I could reach. Peering down anxiously, I could see the floor below me, but it seemed too far to drop down safely. I struggled on down the now sloping rock wall, but suddenly my aching arms gave in and I lost my grip. I tumbled down, and let out a harsh yell of pain as I landed heavily on my right leg and felt the shin snap beneath my weight. I almost passed out from the agony, but before I could retreat into oblivion I saw a figure striding towards me.

"Karel," I snarled through the haze of pain. There was no way I could fight him now.

He looked down at me, and smiled. "You really are quite remarkable, Lara," he said fondly. "Always determined to interrupt my plans. Sadly for you, it is too late to stop anything. But I would enjoy it very much to have you as a spectator." Although he was dressed the same as the last time I had seen him, he was now in his true half-Nephilim form, grey skin etched with ancient markings. He reached down and grabbed me by the arm, then yanked me to my feet. Or foot, rather. I cried out again as my right leg scraped awkwardly against the ground, but Karel held me up effortlessly, and carried me further into the room.

I actually did pass out this time as he dropped me to the floor, darkness spilling from within me out towards my mind, but moments later I found my vision ebbing back again. I looked up to see Karel crouching over me. I felt an unusual, creeping warmth in my leg where the pain had been. I looked down and saw his gloved hand upon my skin. Reflexively I pulled the leg away, and found that the pain had subsided to a dull throbbing.

Karel laughed as he saw my shocked expression. "There's no use you being present at the dawn of a new era if you can't even stay awake," he said as he straightened up again. "Please, stay where you are and I won't have to hurt you." I sat up warily, and tentatively rubbed the shin I had broken minutes earlier. It was fixed. Of all Karel's powers, I had never expected healing to be one of them. It appalled me that he had such a valuable ability, but spent his life pursuing only the path of destruction.

I looked around the cavern we were in. It was so huge I couldn't make out walls around the edges, despite the glow from a large circle of flame that blazed around a rough stone platform ahead of me, beyond Karel. I could see nothing else. The place seemed as empty and silent as a grave.

"Dawn of a new era?" I snapped back at him sarcastically. "I don't see any of your friends falling over themselves to be a part of it. Or any Nephilim, for that matter."

He tipped his head slightly to one side, amused. "Everyone who worked for me is dead. The few you and your friend left alive, I killed myself. I needed them for a time, but they had no place in my vision." He gestured with one hand at the vast cave around us. "And do not be deceived by the apparent emptiness, Lara. The Nephilim are here, as they have been for many centuries. True, they are mere ghosts of their former selves. They were already weak when they dug themselves into this place, and grew weaker still as time passed. It will take a large sacrifice to return their strength, but I have that taken care of."

He moved away now, towards the platform, and as he did I was able to see the platform properly for the first time. Inside the ring of fire, another male figure was standing. No, not standing; he was held upright by heavy chains that clasped his arms up above his hanging head. His clothes and skin were dark with dried blood, and it was impossible to tell if he was alive or dead.

It was Kurtis.


	21. The Nephilim

Chapter 21: The Nephilim 

"Kurtis," I whispered, staring in horror at the figure on the platform. If there was any life in his battered body then it was only just clinging on. The only part of his face visible to me was stained red with blood, and his chest was marked with a terrible horizontal gash that had cut through his shirt and deep into the flesh beneath. There was no sign of movement in his chest.

"Is he alive?" I asked, voice shaking with the effort of containing my fear and sorrow.

Karel stepped unharmed through the wall of flames that circled the platform and stood close to the ravaged body. "Yes," he replied. He grabbed Kurtis' hair and pulled his head up so I could see his face more clearly. His eyes were closed, and he was barely recognisable through the blood and bruising. "Barely. I'm not ready to finish him off just yet." He knelt down on the floor beside a large wooden crate and reached inside.

"Do you know what this is, Lara?" he asked, and held something up for me to see. It was some kind of ceramic jar, reminiscent of the canopic jars used by the ancient Egyptians for storing body parts after death.

"No," I replied bitterly.

He smiled again. "This container holds the heart of Matthieu de l'Arnay, the first Lux Veritatis elder ever to die at my hand. Preserved for many hundreds of years. This"- he reached for another jar – "is Vladimir Koschenka's heart. He was the Grand Master of the entire order for a short time in the 19th century. Until I encountered him, of course."

More jars were removed carefully and set in a line on the platform. Selecting yet another specimen from the crate, Karel held it in both hands and eyed it appreciatively for a moment as though it contained a rare and fine wine. "And this," he said more quietly, "is the heart of Konstantin Boranovich. The most recent Lux Veritatis leader, killed last year, the mantle then passing to his only son." I swallowed hard. He didn't have to explain any further. Although the surname was different, I knew for certain that the man had been Kurtis' father, supposedly murdered by the Monstrum. Karel set the jar down and stood up.

"I thought Eckhardt killed all those men," I managed to say despite the churning feelings inside me.

Karel nodded. "He killed many of them. But he kept body parts. Some of them he used for his own alchemical needs, but I was able to procure the hearts. Arrogant fool, he never suspected my intentions. But that is why it was so easy to use him. He was a thug, granted a long life that he did not deserve, unable to comprehend the true meaning of the Great Work. It was a pleasure to watch him die." He paced slowly along the line of jars. "Some of the hearts that I have here belonged to members of the Turkish order, the Light of Truth; I believe you befriended one of them. I would have liked to take the heart of that old fool Ozan too, but unfortunately he foresaw my arrival. He shot himself right through it. Of course, it was no use after that." He looked at me, seeing the hatred spilling from my eyes.

"So this is what the Monstrum killings were all about?" I asked with barely disguised revulsion. "Is that what you did with Von Croy?"

"No, no," Karel replied. "You misunderstand. Von Croy was merely a loose end, no use to a work as important as _this_. Only the remains of those who were marked to protect against my kind can be used to restore us." He looked back at Kurtis, and lifted his bloody face again with a gloved hand, more gently this time. He looked at Kurtis curiously. "His heart will be the last I need. Kurtis Boranovich, last of the Lux Veritatis."

I scrambled to my feet and drew my pistols, unable to bear it any more. I pointed both guns at Karel's head and fired off a stream of bullets. I knew it wouldn't hurt him, not really, but I had nothing better, and his talk sickened me to my core. He turned and flung a hand out towards me. One or two of the bullets hit home, although they failed to distract him, while others were vapourised in mid-air by the wave of energy he unleashed. Another bullet stopped short, then flew back towards me and pierced my upper arm. I grunted at the pain, but I no longer really cared what he did to me. As my empty pistols began clicking uselessly, Karel kept his arm outstretched and sent another blast at me, catching me in the chest and flinging me backwards several feet. The guns flew from my hands, and I landed on my back, scraping my arms and legs as I skidded along the rough ground. Pain gripped me tight across the ribs, and I fought to breathe for several long, torturous moments. When he decided I had been punished enough, Karel lowered his arm. I struggled back to my hands and knees, gasping. Kurtis had said something a few days earlier about Karel still being weak from his temporary defeat in Prague. He didn't seem remotely weak now. Either he had more power at his disposal when he was in his true form, or he had boosted his strength somehow in the meantime. Perhaps just being here, in the vault of his own kind, gave him greater vigour.

After my short-lived interruption Karel was back at work on the platform, setting out the jars in a circle within the ring of flames. There must have been twenty or thirty of them in total. Not every member of the Orders, then, but many of their strongest initiates. When he had finished he stood still, facing towards Kurtis. He began to speak, his voice low and barely audible over the crackling flames. I crawled slowly forwards, trying to get within earshot. I stopped a few feet from the fire, feeling its heat harsh against the bullet wound on my arm. Karel's voice grew steadily louder, and I recognised the tongue as Hebrew. It was not a language I was terribly familiar with, and I could make out only fragments of it. His voice rose triumphantly as he spoke the word _Nephilim_. Was he making contact with the Nephilim that had been sealed in this great pit beneath the earth? He carried on speaking, chanting almost, as he took off his black gloves and bent down to pick up the first of the jars. I saw that it was now open, and I watched in disgust as he reached his scarred hand in and pull out the ancient heart. A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm me as he lifted the oddly discoloured meat to his face and took a deep bite from it. He placed what remained of the heart in the fire, where it hissed and began to pour out vile smoke. He continued around the circle, doing the same with each of the hearts in turn, although I turned away in revulsion every time he put them to his mouth. If he noticed my proximity during all this then he was unconcerned.

As he progressed around the circle I started to notice a change in the room around me, distracted until now by Karel's appalling ritual. The air was dank and cold this deep underground, but with Karel's chanting it seemed to start to whisper and tremble around me. Shadows in the corners of my eyes kept shifting, but every time I turned to peer into the dark I saw nothing. My eyes stung from the fire's noxious emissions, not helping matters. I looked back at Karel, who by now had covered almost half of the circle. His eyes were closed as he performed much of the task, and he seemed to be changing also. The symbols that marked the flesh around his face were pulsing steadily with a vague white glow.

As I looked around again I had the impression that the restless shadows were moving to the same silent rhythm, ragged ribbons moved by an invisible wind. Sure enough, the shadows were becoming more tangible, threads of black and grey weaving in the air. Still Karel continued, and I realised that the smoke billowing from the fire was meeting with the ghostly strands and giving them more substance. I watched in horrified fascination as the threads of shadow began almost imperceptibly to knit together, forming skeletal grey shapes that seemed at once cobweb-light and solidly fleshy in the flickering light from the fire. I could hear the whispering growing louder around me.

On the platform, Karel looked almost hypnotised, his expression blankly calm as he chanted, lips and chin dripping with the vile juices of his offerings. I heard a sound like the rustling of gigantic wings unfolding, and a chill breeze fell against my cheek, but I kept staring back at Karel. He had finished with the hearts at last and was waiting for my attention to return to him. I was shaking with anger and regret, knowing that this was the end, certainly for myself and Kurtis, and possibly for mankind as we knew it. And I had been unable to prevent it. Karel reached into his coat and withdrew a long dagger, which he held up for me to see more clearly. The blade curved slightly towards its tip and looked lethally sharp.

"I wish you had accepted my offer, Lara. I could have made you very powerful, and I believe that somehow you could have made me more powerful also. I would have liked to have someone beside me to help me rule the Nephilim." He began to turn back towards Kurtis' dangling form, knife raised.

"_NO!_" I cried in desperation, above the screaming pain in my heart and the menacing whispers from all around. Karel looked down at me as I struggled to my feet. "Please," I gasped. "Don't kill him. I'll do whatever you want. You can have me, I'll join you, I'll help you get whatever you want, just please don't kill him."

He gave me a curious, sorrowful look. Slowly he walked towards me, back through the flames, and stopped in front of me. The faint figures around us bristled at this interruption, but Karel approached nevertheless. He reached out and put his bare palm to my cheek, and looked into my eyes. The contact of his skin with mine burned and stung, but I struggled not to show it. Angry and uneasy whispers trembled in the air, joined by a scraping sound like long talons scratching at the stone floor.

"Your eyes remind me of someone from long ago," Karel said almost softly, looking into my face, streaked with dirt and tears. He removed his hand, shaking his head regretfully.

"I have offered you greatness twice, now. Both times you have refused me. I know what you are willing to sacrifice for this man, but that is why I cannot let you join me. If I spared him, you would only try to be with him. You could never be loyal to me when you are so attached to another mortal." His mouth twisted in faint disgust.

He started to move away, but I grabbed for his arm. "Don't," I breathed. He touched my arm, sending a painful jolt through it, forcing me to let go. I knew that he could have hurt me far more grievously than that, but I could see something else in his eyes now – pity.

"Even if you did join me, Lara, the fact remains that I still have to sacrifice him to complete my work here. The Great Work is everything now." He stepped back onto the platform.

"I'm sorry," he said simply, his face blank, and thrust the dagger deep into Kurtis' chest.


	22. Asharagael

:) Hello everyone, I'm really REALLY sorry to have left you all with an evil cliffhanger but I went on holiday the day after posting so I've been unable to update. Sorry! But here at last is the next chapter, and Kurtis' fate shall become at least a little clearer ;)

**Chapter 22: Asharagael**

I let out a scream that contained every last shred of hope or joy in my soul, and sank to my knees. The air rushed around me as the half-formed Nephilim pushed closer to the fire, waiting for Karel to drop his last offering into the flames. Karel stood on the platform, looking around at the ghastly figures, and held up a bloody palm.

"Brothers and sisters," he called to them. "This is the last of our enemies. To devour him means to return to glory." The Nephilim pressed closer, their fragile limbs still insubstantial in the firelight, long grey fingers grasping, wings stretching and swaying. Their eager whispers filled my ears. They still showed no interest in me whatsoever, their hunger directed at the prize on the platform.

"But first," Karel continued, voice bold and certain, "I want you to swear, my kin, that as the one who resurrected you, the one who brought about this new age, you will honour me as your leader. Without me, you would have remained locked in this grave for all time. I am worthy of your adoration, and your loyalty." The Nephilim strained forwards harder, whispering voices growing to loud hisses, agreeing, urging Karel onward to his next step.

I wanted to die, let it end right there and then. I could do nothing more. Karel had succeeded, and the Nephilim would be whole again in just moments._ Unless Kurtis' heart never makes it into those flames_, a voice murmured somewhere deep inside. Even in my broken state, a part of me was still trying to save the world. I looked up at the platform, at Karel, at the fire. In a moment he would turn and start carving into Kurtis' torn body. How could I reach him? I couldn't cross the flames, and there was no way of extinguishing them. I couldn't even drag Kurtis' body away, not while he was still chained like a carcass in a butcher's window. I closed my eyes, hung my head, and prayed silently for some kind of inspiration. _Something, there has to be something_, I pleaded. _Just to end this. And if I can live long enough to give the man I love a decent funeral, so much the better_.

As these thoughts raced through my frantic mind, something happened in the room. A sudden hush came over the Nephilim, and I screwed my eyes up tighter. Was it too late? Had Karel done the final deed? I couldn't bear to look. But the air seemed to be crackling with fear, not triumph, and the scraping feet around me were retreating now, slowly but surely. I opened my eyes, still afraid of what I may see. Karel had his back towards me, and stood frozen on the platform, dagger in hand.

"No," I heared him say, voice sharp with disbelief. "No, it can't be."

He stumbled backwards, right through the fire, and I looked up at the source of his terror. My jaw dropped open in amazement.

Kurtis had raised his head, and there was orange light spilling from his eyes and open mouth. As I stared, I saw that a fainter glow was shining all around his body, pulsing slowly. It was growing steadily stronger and brighter, until there was a shimmering, fiery aura all around him. Whatever I was witnessing, it wasn't just Kurtis any more. Karel stumbled as the figure on the platform pulled his arms free of the chains as though they were nothing more than paper, and stepped slowly down from where he had been held. With every step the ethereal light around him became more and more defined, brightening outwards to banish the gloom.

I looked around at the frightened, hideous figures of the Nephilim. In the new light they looked more real, more flesh. More pitiful. I shuddered at the sight of their faces. They brought to mind something of exquisite beauty that had been broken, destroyed, drained of a soul, and reassembled to look forever flawed. I realised for the first time why the meeting of angel and human had been such a travesty. These creatures should never have existed. I was appalled to notice that there were about three dozen of them; their destructive potential made the damage done by Karel pale into insignificance. I looked back at Kurtis, or whatever was now standing before me. There was no trace now of the warm blue gaze that had held me captive so many times, no frown or teasing smile to betray his thoughts. A towering figure, made of flame, stood overlapping with his body, head turning left and right to survey the beasts around it. Its eyes were brilliant white flames in a head that was sleek and fierce, but breathtakingly beautiful. Turning its attention to Karel, it spoke.

"_What is this?"_

The voice was feminine, musical, terrifying and stunning. The words were not in any language I had ever heard before, but the meaning of them was as clear and true as if they had been scribed directly on my heart. I was torn between agony and ecstasy, tears and laughter at the sound. I knew suddenly that this was an angel standing before me.

"What are you?" Karel stammered, futile dagger held out before him, but I suspected he knew the answer to his question as well as I did.

"_I am Asharagael,"_ the angel replied. I gasped, remembering Ozan's last scribbled note.

"_You are Nephilim,"_ Asharagael's voice rang out. _"And your time is over. It should never have begun."_

She reached a flaming arm towards Karel, an impossible blend of ferocity and tenderness on her flickering face. Within the light I could still make out Kurtis' form, his own arm outstretched, faint and fragile. Karel backed away, head shaking desperately in denial. Asharagael reached for him, and took hold of his head easily in her tapering fingers. Karel started to moan, quietly and pathetically like a child.

"_This is your doing, half-breed,"_ the angel said. She placed both hands around his head and began to crush. The scream that arose from Karel's lips was so awful that I felt sick with pity, despite my hatred, and had to turn away, hands over ears. As the scream died out I looked back at the spectacle before me. A blaze of white flame spilled from Asharagael's hands, tinged with blue. I was reminded of the light that had glowed from the Periapt shards as I plunged them into Eckhardt, many long weeks ago in the Strahov. As the light faded there was nothing left to be seen of Karel.

She turned and began to stride gracefully towards the closest of the Nephilim. Some of them froze in fear, while others ran, crawled or beat their skinny wings in an attempt to get away. Some of them even managed to unleash their own weapons, despite their hungry, half-finished state, sending bolts of light at their pursuer. But there was no escape from her murderous touch. One by one they were consumed by the deadly fire, shrieks echoing around to rough stone chamber. The floor began to shake beneath my knees as the creatures fought and fell before Asharagael. Dust started to rain down from new damage to the ceiling, and I realised that the whole city could be in danger of collapsing into the crumbling chamber. I had no way of getting out.

The rumbling of stone continued even as the last of the Nephilim cried out its last breath. So I would be buried here, in another God-forsaken tomb. But at least it had ended, the Nephilim destroyed. It was more than I could have hoped for. Asharagael came towards me, shining and magnificent.

"_Human,"_ she said, peering down at me, burning eyes warming my skin. I looked into her face, squinting against the light. _"What is your part in all of this?"_

"I..." I didn't know what to say. I felt very small and simple in that extraordinary gaze. "I wanted to stop him," I managed eventually.

"_The half-breed?"_

"Yes."

"_Then why did you bow before him?"_ she asked. She moved a hand closer to my face and I could feel the power radiating from it. Did she really think that I was one of Karel's subjects?

"I just wanted to stop him... from hurting Kurtis," I whispered.

Asharagael's fingers brushed against my face, very gently, but even that faintest of touches was like a warm wave that threatened to overwhelm me. I gasped at the beauty of that touch. She seemed to be thinking, trying to decide what should be done with me. I knelt before her, helpless and exhausted. She cocked her head to one side slightly, as though she were listening to something I couldn't hear.

"_You love him,"_ she said. _"The beacon."_

"Beacon?" She must be talking about Kurtis. Was he still in there somewhere, alive and feeling, conversing somehow with the angel?

"_The human. The last link between man and angel."_

I was soothed by Asharagael's touch, but my tired mind, although calmer now, was still struggling with incomprehension. "I don't understand."

"_Long ago, when the half-breeds took their first steps upon this earth, my brethren and I were sent to unmake them. They should never have been,"_ she said regretfully. _"They have no place in heaven or earth. We knew that some of them had fled, hidden themselves from us. And we placed our mark upon some of the mortals, so that they could be our eyes in this plane, and shine our light into the dark places where the half-breeds had fled. They passed our gift down through the generations, but human memory is fickle, and although the gift remained, its purpose became unclear. The link became weaker,and one by one the beacons were snuffed out, untilit seemed the bond had been cut once and for all."_ Asharagael turned and moved towards the now empty platform. The circle of flames had been broken by falling dust and debris, but still burnt here and there. The angel waved her hand over the fire and it disappeared.

"_But then the signal came again. Suddenly, stronger than it had been for such a very long time. Drawing me back here, to continue my work."_

She turned back to face me again, and I pondered what she had said. All along, Kurtis had held this incredible power, and never even known it. I wondered when the memory of the angels had finally faded from human minds. Even Ozan had not known the true purpose of the Light of Truth.

"Are there more of them? The Nephilim?" I asked tentatively.

Asharagael looked solemn. _"Yes. I fear that there are more, hidden away even deeper than these were. But I cannot sense them."_

I closed my eyes. Surely this had to be the end; after all the tragedies and miracles, surely there could be no more. The floor shifted beneath me again, the groaning of stone on stone growing louder.

"What happens now?" I asked Asharagael.

She smiled at me then, and despite the sounds of destruction all around I was held blissfully in that smile, hoping it would never end. She reached for me, and I found myself standing.

"_Now,"_ she said, _"We leave this place and bury it forever. And then your life goes on."_ Her arms opened, and I went to her, folded willingly in her divine embrace. I closed my eyes and let the warmth wrap around me, needing nothing more.

**A/N:**  
Ooooh... Karel's dead! It's all over! Okay, not quite ;) There's still one chapter left, which I will try to finish and post as soon as I can, although I'm pretty busy right now. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chappie. Thanks so much for all the reviews so far! :)


	23. The Future

Hello strangers... Put away the pitchforks and poking-sticks, because here it is! The FINAL CHAPTER! I'm so sorry it has taken me this long. My dog ate it... :S  
I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed this story and encouraged me to keep on writing, whether by flattery or outright threats of violence! XD You guys all rule. Thankyou for your patience. :)

**Chapter 23: The Future**

When my eyes opened it was to brilliant daylight. For a moment I longed to be asleep again, to be back in the wonderful arms that had held me in my dream. And then I felt the ground rough beneath me, felt the dust on my face, and remembered that it was all true. I raised myself slowly onto hands and knees and looked around. Seeing nothing but more dust and rocks, I got to my feet and took a few steps. Although I was mentally exhausted, I found that there was no pain in my body, no aching muscles or stinging cuts. She had taken it all away.

I stared blankly around, seeking out some familiar landmark or object to indicate where I was. The distant rise and fall of hills in one direction, and the white shapes of buildings through the heat haze in the other, proved that I was in fact still on the site of Karel's camp, although there was nothing left to be seen of it. Every tent, truck, crate of equipment and fallen soldier had disappeared into the earth without trace. Derinkuyu was no more, and yet the ground beneath my feet seemed as undisturbed as though the great collapse had never occurred. It really was like waking from a dream.

Eventually my eyes fell on a nearby patch of shrubs that seemed vaguely familiar, so I wandered towards it. To my astonishment, the motorcycle was still lying on its side amongst the scrubby undergrowth, undamaged. My exit from this condemned place had been assured. But what of Asharagael? I swallowed hard, not prepared for this solitude. What about Kurtis? Could it be that he had disappeared into the ether along with the angel when she departed? I hung my head and slowly sat down on the ground beside the bike. I knew it was nothing short of a miracle that I was still alive, but I felt no sense of victory. I was completely alone.

I may have sat there for minutes or hours, I couldn't say. But once the numbness had abated enough, I got back to my feet and started to feel around in my pockets for the keys to the motorcycle. I had to hold myself together long enough to get away from this place, even though the only real option for me now was to return to Ozan's house. I could wash and rest there, once I had called the police or an ambulance to take my poor friend's body away. The thought was almost too much to bear, and I longed for my own home, and my own loved ones, even if they were few.

As I fumbled with the keys, I was distracted by a movement a short distance away. Something on the ground was shifting, dust rising lazily around the source of the motion. I frowned, squinting against the bright day to see it better. A shape that I had previously taken to be a rock or part of the bleak scenery was rising up, dust and sand parting to show what seemed to be… a figure?

A second later I was running flat out, my fatigue forgotten as I charged across the dry ground. I fell to my knees beside the figure, brushing away dust and earth from shoulders clad in a dark and tattered t-shirt, legs in faded khaki combats, a head of dark, tousled hair…

"Kurtis," I gasped, my heart threatening to leap into my throat and out into the open air. "Are you… alive?"

He was sitting now, shaking his arms and hair, coughing in the cloud of dust. His blue eyes opened to me, and he smiled weakly at my question. "I think so."

"I thought… I thought you'd gone," I stammered, putting my hands on his face as though to convince myself he was real. "I thought she'd taken you with her."

"_She_," he repeated faintly, then shook his head slowly in confusion and disbelief. "She was real, wasn't she?"

"Yes," I told him. "She was. She killed Karel, and the Nephilim. She saved us."

"My God," Kurtis said. Underneath the layers of grime, he looked and sounded completely exhausted in mind and body. "It's like a long, crazy dream. Or maybe a nightmare."

"Kurtis, it's alright now," I assured him. "It's over." I wrapped my grateful arms around him, pulling him close to my warmth and my life. "It's over."

_Later. _

Somehow we had made it through the rest of the day, although neither of us would later remember quite how we did it, or where we found the reserves of energy in our exhausted state. Kurtis sat by the log-burning stove in the Nevsehir hotel suite, his damp hair hanging in his face, gazing into the flames with a look that resembled deep sadness. I stopped combing my own newly-washed hair, and went to stand in front of him.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, tentatively. His mood had been understandably dark and distant since I had found him, and I knew he was struggling to deal with everything that had happened. So far he had failed to even show any relief at Karel's demise, and I was longing to reach out to him and give him some comfort.

He didn't reply for some time, but sat silently staring into the fire as though he han't heard me speak. I was about to tell him that it was alright, that he didn't have to talk about anything if he didn't want to, when he spoke.

"I'm afraid," he said finally. "I don't know what I am anymore." His voice was hushed and exhausted.

"You're what you always were," I said gently, sitting down beside him. "A Lux Veritatis warrior. A fighter." I put a hand to his cheek and turned his face until he was looking in my eyes. "You're Kurtis."

His eyes searched mine, confused and lost. "But that's not all I am, is it?"

I shook my head. "She – Asharagael – is linked to you, that's true. And I don't really know what that means yet, but I know that it doesn't make you any less _you_. It just makes you stronger."

"Stronger," he echoed, playing with the potential of the word and then rejecting it. "I certainly don't feel stronger."

"Of course you don't, not _now_. You've gone through a nightmare today. Karel put you through hell." _And me, too,_ I thought, although I didn't voice my own pain. _I had to watch him murder you_. "But in the end you defeated him. Because of this gift that you have. Don't you see? You saved _everything_."

"But –" he lowered his head again. "I don't have any control over it. It just happened, I don't know how, I didn't even know what was going on. Lara, I nearly got us both killed. It wasn't me who was strong, or powerful. It was _her_." He looked away bitterly.

"No, that's not true," I said, urgently. "You did something, Kurtis. You were… Listen, Asharagael described you as her 'beacon'. She said that no-one had sent them a signal that strong for a long, long time, and that was how she found us. That was how she killed Karel and the Nephilim. You may be the only one left, but you're the only one ever to summon an angel to Earth. You may not understand how it works yet, but with time you will."

"I don't know," he said, closing his eyes. "I don't know if I can do this. It's all too much. I'm so tired." He put his head in his hands. "I can't do this on my own."

I moved from the couch to kneel in front of him, and put my arms around him. "You don't have to do it alone," I said, kissing the top of his head.

"Lara, I can't let you do this any more. You've been through enough, and there's worse to come." He looked up at me again. "I can't put you through any more of this."

His voice was so flat and full of despair, and his eyes so sorrowful, that my heart wrenched painfully for him.

"I don't care how bad it gets. I want to do this." He shook his head again wearily. "What else do I have?" I went on. "Kurtis, there's never been anything in my life as important as this. I can't go back to my old life now, knowing what has to be done." I imagined spending my remaining years alone, rattling round in a house that was too big for me, never feeling any sense of purpose or doing anything of consequence. "I'm not afraid. The only thing I'm afraid of is –"

I broke off, my voice failing me. Kurtis looked at me, his eyes still sad but soft and caring too. He trailed a finger down my face. "What?"

"I can't lose you," I whispered.

He kissed me gently.

"I understand," he said. "But even if this is what we want to do, where do we start? What the hell do we do first? If there are other Nephilim, where are they? How do I fight them? Everyone that could have helped us is dead…" He trailed off, leaving us in silence again.

"Maybe not," I said eventually. An idea was forming in my mind, the spark of something wonderful, if only it were possible.

Kurtis noticed the change in my tone, and my rapt expression. "What do you mean?" he asked, looking at me curiously.

I frowned, not sure how best to explain something I was still piecing together myself.

"You could find help," I said at last. "You could start the Lux Veritatis again."

His eyes widened in surprise at those words. "Lara, you know as well as I do, they're all dead. There's no-one left. It's just me."

"Yes, there's just you. But there doesn't have to be. Think about it, Kurtis. You're as powerful as any member of the Lux Veritatis since they first began. What's stopping you from training people yourself?"

He shook his head vigourously. "You don't understand, Lara. The powers of the Lux Veritatis were passed on through blood lines. All those families have been killed. And even if I did find any survivors, I wouldn't know how to train them, how to initiate them. I was never taught that much, and the traditions are all gone along with the men who kept them going. All the books and records are destroyed. It's _over_."

"How do you know you can't train people? And as for the powers being carried on through blood, there must be thousands of people who descended from the first Lux Veritatis members, whether they know it or not. And hundreds of thousands more who have their own powers, for whatever reason, and could be trained to use them against the Nephilim. " He still looked unconvinced, but let me go on talking. "You have your tattoo, Kurtis. You have the language, the Light of Truth that Ozan told us about. That's what needs to be passed on, _that's_ how we can keep the connection to the angels. You can still pass on everything you do know. Yes, the rules for the ceremonies and initiations have been lost. But the angels didn't write the rituals. Men did. They did it to build up a tradition around their beliefs and their duties. The original gift was the language. You have some of it; Ozan left some of it behind. We can work with that."

He looked at me for a long time. "I don't know, it's just…" He sighed heavily. "It's such a huge task. I wouldn't know where to start."

"Well then, that's why you're lucky to have me," I replied, and gave him the closest thing to a smile that I could muster.

He met it with a slight smile of his own, and I could see at least some calm returning to his eyes, vying with the uncertainty.

"Let's just say all this is possible._ If_ it were possible, how would we even go about it? We'd need to travel, we'd need somewhere to train people, somewhere for it all to happen. A base of operations, or whatever."

I managed a real smile that time. "Kurtis. You're forgetting that I own a bloody big mansion. And I'm stinking rich."

He smiled back. "Are you sure you want to commit everything to this?" he said softly.

"To saving the world? Yes, I think I'm okay with that." I put my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, trying to show him how much he was needed, and how much I believed in him. He wound his own arms around my waist and held me close, resting his forehead against mine when the kiss ended.

"It might not work," he said hesitantly, quietly; I could tell he was saying it for my benefit, not wanting me to offer up too much false hope.

"I know," I told him. "But let's do it anyway."

THE END

A/N: So, there you have it. Of course I couldn't really kill Kurtie! I'd never forgive myself! Anyway, as you may have noticed, there's lots of sequel-friendly stuff in there, and yes indeed I am planning a sequel. :DI can't say when it will commence, because I'll only disappoint, but hopefully it won't be long. Thankyou all again for your reviews and feedback. :) giant hugs


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